


What goes together better than cold and dark?

by cianethedevil



Series: What came after [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erotica, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Introspection, Lemon, Love, M/M, Nightmares, Romantic Comedy, Romanticism, Serious Injuries, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 178,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cianethedevil/pseuds/cianethedevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sank deep in these thoughts Jack almost didn't notice that Pitch had reached him: it was so natural to glimpse the man kneeling behind himself, absently accepting the contact of his arm around the waist and his hand leaning on his shoulder, and the words used to invite him to stop lingering on his pain sounded right. The boy gave himself completely to the other, who hugged him tightly, pressed to his back; he felt thin coils of magic sand crawling along the chest, and yet he didn't fight: it was the next thing to a cuddle he had ever received in all his long life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is the translation of the original italian fanfiction written by me. The original has a lot of chapter, and it's not finished yet; of course I'll finish it, and I will also finish the translation ;) just have a little patience!

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 1**

 

 

Jack took a run up to the cliff and he was about to throw the casket containing his teeth in the ocean, but in the end his will failed, and he held it up tightly in his hand. Despite all the misfortunes it caused him, he couldn't get rid of it. He would not, he could not throw the only thing that could reveal his past away and that could bring a new light to his future; the only thing that could clear up his task, who Jack Frost was and why he was there.

He grumbled exasperated, frowning). He was trying to think about what he could do, when a deep voice interrupted the flow of his thoughts.

«I thought this might happen. They never really believed in you. I was trying to show you that, but I understand...».

Furious, the boy turned round, his expression distorted in anger, and he attacked the enemy in front of him with an icy beam, shouting:« You don't understand anything!».

Pitch protected himself by creating a shield of black sand and he counter-attacked: blacks tentacles of fog came out of his hands, stretching out to reach Frost, while he imperiously replied: «I do know what it means to be cast out!».

Taking advantage of the wind at his command, the guy leapt over the enemy and growling he delivered a blow against him: the impact hurled him back, and he landed on the ground in a slight drizzle of ice crystals and darkness. He tried to spot the Boogeyman, bewildered by the confused view, and he glimpsed him getting closer from behind.

«To not be believed in! To long for a family...» said Pitch, his voice cracking with sadness, and his expression shattered by the pain that caused Jack’s eyes to widen and lowering the stick.

«All these years in the shadows I thought: "No one else knows how this feels like"... but now I see I was wrong» continued the man, slowly approaching him;«We don't have to be alone, Jack. I believe in you, and I know children will, too».

«In me?» the boy asked in disbelief.

«Yes! Look at what we can do» the Boogeyman said, showing the impressive and jugged sculpture of ice and black sand that they had created during the fight. «What goes together better than cold and dark? We can make them believe, we'll give them a world where everything, everything is...».

«Pitch Black?» Jack said.

«... and Jack Frost, too» he quickly completed, «They will believe in both of us».

«No, they'll fear both of us, and that's not what I want» the boy replied, and he concluded: «Now for the last time: leave me alone».

Without waiting for an answer he turned away with a light step, trying to look indifferent, but the whirlwind of emotions that shook his nerves was so overflowing that it couldn't be restrained. After a few yards he stopped, running his left hand over his eyes, and tried with all his might to reflect, picking up the train of thoughts that had been interrupted by the man. In vain, of course. The more he tried to think about all the mistakes he did - the disappointments given to the Easter Bunny, how helpless he felt when he lost Sandman, the disorientation in not knowing why he existed, with not a single reason about why he existed, nor a path that led to an improvement of the situation - the more he focused on a Pitch bent under the weight of his suffering, his voice cracking with grief while he explained that he had always felt lost. Like him. Was it possible that they were so similar? Two kindred spirits? The Boogeyman looked so cruel, so wicked, willing to use any trick to see even one child crying because of him... and yet the expression on his face as he showed his feelings couldn't have been more human. Was he telling the truth? Could he have feelings so complex and apparently conflicted with the pure evil that he represented?

Sank deep in these thoughts Jack almost didn't notice that Pitch had reached him: it was so natural to glimpse the man kneeling behind himself, absently accepting the contact of his arm around the waist and his hand leaning on his shoulder, and the words used to invite him to stop lingering on his pain sounded right. The boy gave himself completely to the other, who hugged him tightly, pressed to his back; he felt thin coils of magic sand crawling along the chest, and yet he didn't fight: it was the next thing to a cuddle he had ever received in all his long life.

When The Boogeyman perceived Frost relaxing against him he became more bolder: he let the tentacles of darkness stretching, twisting around the neck of the guy until they reached his jaw; with his right hand he lightly touched the hollow spaces along his collarbone, while he slid the left hand under the blue hoodie to stroke his hip so skinny; and it was a natural consequence that the man bowed his face between the space of his shoulder and his neck, laying there light kisses.

Jack winced at the contact, amazed by the gentleness with which the other was treating him, and he instinctively tensed; immediately the man stopped, forcing him to turn his face. He stared straight into his eyes and whispered: «I told you, Jack: we don't have to be alone».

Frost struggled to hear those simple words, because ’he had inevitably started to fall under the spell of that wonderful gaze: open, deep, pure in his golden color of the irises and yet so mysterious in the dark flames that burned even there, as if the whole figure of the Boogeyman should be permeated by them. He stood still when he inched closer, and blushed when his lips pressed to their own. What was that gesture? Was what humans called... a kiss? He had never given nor received one, he didn't even know how to do it, but he understood that it made him feel good and whole as never before. It was easy, for him, to close his eyes and let himself go.

Pitch's tongue stroked his lips, lascivious, making them open up, and got sliding into his mouth. He drew Jack’s tongue in a silent and sensual dance, stealing from Jack a soft sigh. As the boy learned to respond and let the embarrassment faded away, the man deepened the contact, wrapping him in a hug, making the kiss less and less chaste and sweet, drawing endless arabesques on his body with his skinny fingers and the black sand.

Jack felt completely overwhelmed by those feelings so alien, and so strange considering the creature who was making him feel that way. An unknown warmth burst in his lower abdomen; his legs buckled and he flushed bright red for the first time since he was born. Setting aside any reserve he threw his arms around the man's neck, sinking his fingers in those silky hair, uncovering an inch of skin on the belly and implicitly giving the other the permission to take advantage of it: and the Boogeyman didn't need to be told twice, and he slid his palms under the hoodie, covering every inch of that white skin and sending dark tentacles to amplify the pleasure.

A groan escaped from Frost's lips because of the intimacy of that contact, the signal of its total surrender: warm chills crawled on his back, rising from the stomach to the neck, and he could not hear anything except for Pitch: his soft mouth, his silky hands, his sand like velvet on his skin were everything for him at that moment: he couldn't feel anything else, nor the icy ground beneath his feet, nor his body, nor the staff in his hands... the staff… the staff!

In a sudden flash of fear he opened his eyes, trying to slip out of the man's grip, and he swept around in search of the object that had accompanied him throughout his life. He spotted it immediately, abandoned at his feet: and that was the last time he saw it intact.

With an evil smirk the Boogeyman broke it under his knee, splitting it in two and scattering small shatters around; simultaneously Jack felt a stabbing pain in his chest, as if his heart had been ripped out. He slid to the ground, unable to stand on his own.

Quickly Pitch hastened to support him, grabbing him by the shoulders, and with a soft voice he whispered: «Oh Jack, I'm sorry, I am really sorry: I would not have wanted to go that far, but you've got this bad habit of interfering... I can't let you destroy my plans».

Hearing those word the boy pulled himself together, overwhelmed by his own anger: with his last energy he raised his head and threw himself at the opponent, trying to grab him by the collar. A flash of fear crossed the mesmeric eyes of the Boogeyman, who didn't expect a reaction, but with a swift swerve he managed to avoid him, and he attacked him with the magic sand.

Jack, defenseless, felt himself lifted upwards and crashed into an ice barrier behind him; powerless and stunned by the blow he fell into the precipice below, repeatedly bumping into the walls and injuring himself even more. However, when he was a few inches from the imminent impact on the ground, two strong and warm arms grabbed him, holding him almost lovingly, and slowly settled him on the ground. Awakened by the soft warmth that enveloped him, Jack opened his eyes, and what he saw, in spite of the weakness that had flooded his limbs, surprised him.

Pitch was knelt beside him, bent on his face: with his right arm he was supporting him behind by his back and neck, while with his left hand, he was lasciviously stroking his jaw; with the black sand he had wrapped his legs in a delicate hold and not possessive at all, circumfusing him with a dark aura in eternal movement in the vain attempt of warming up those limbs always frozen; and his look… his look so iridescent and mysterious was full of concern.

However, as soon as the Boogeyman saw him recovering, he shook his head, wiping away that look so human, and coaxingly whispered: «Jack, Jack, be a good boy, do not force me to be naughty with you...».

The boy coughed and started to push aside the hand that was still brushing his cheek, but as soon as he felt the man's silky skin under his fingertips, every ounce of his will and his hatred caused for what he did to his staff and the anger of being defeated deserted him. He strengthen the grip and took him closer, to feel the whole palm of that hand so big and so skinny pressed to his frozen skin.

The Boogeyman smiled maliciously, and said: «Oh Jack, you don't know how much I would like to stay here with you, but I have to win my war...»; a mist of sadness lowered on his golden eyes, and his face went even closer to him: «But I promise you, Jack: when everything will finish I will come back to you».

As to seal that promise, he took his lips once again, caressing his Jack’s tongue with his own, stroking his neck with his slender fingers until he stole from him a low moan, the sign of his total submission. When he heard that sound Pitch smiled, and dissolved himself into a solid fog; he lingered a few moments near the boy's face, tickling his ear, and whispered: «Wait for me, Jack».

Then he disappeared in a violent stream which dashed against the wall of the precipice, disappearing in an unknown place in the world.

Frost pulled himself together hearing those four words, as simple as full of meaning and promise, expectation and lust. When he couldn't feel his presence any more, he shivered and huddled on himself, clutching his arms to his lean body: in his long life he had never felt as cold as in this moment.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately the boy wielded his trusty staff and threw a cold beam in the direction of the enemy. The Boogeyman was hit fully and thrown against the wall of the house next door, then flung on the ground, where he laid motionless as an inanimate puppet. He barely moved an arm and leaned on his elbow, his head still bowed; at last, almost trembling, he managed to raise his eyes and stare at Jack, and he simply asked: «Why?».

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter! I'm sorry, I'm really late and I admit that this is not the whole second chapter, but only a half... Unfortunately I was ill, and I have fucking exams -.- I will translate faster as from March!

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 2**

 

 

Jack was sitting on a bare branch with his legs hanging from the tree and thoughtfully sweeping with his eyes the landscape: a small village in the countryside, sleeping under a full moon that lit the snow-covered rooves, so small in the distance they looked gingerbread and icing decorations like the ones the children are used to do for Christmas Eve. After all Christmas was few days away, he knew it very well: Frost was thrown out of the Palace of North exactly for that, because the preparations were in full swing and his permanent and insolent curiosity slowed the yetis in their incessant work. And children could not absolutely be denied another new beautiful Christmas, especially after the risks due to Pitch's attack and the efforts made to defeat him.

In the end the Guardians won thanks to Tooth, the only one who had understood, in the big drama of the Boogeyman's threat, the little drama of Jack, who could not find a place for himself in the world. Bravely, although she had been weakened, she had looked for him: she had borrowed a snowglobe from Santa and whispered the name of Frost before throwing it in front of herself. When she had reached the wasteland of the South Pole and found his staff shattered, she had feared the worst. Wild, she had looked for him and at last she found him curled up in the bottom of the cleft: she had went down to him, comforted him and made him pull out of his pocket the casket of the teeth. Using her power, she had helped him to remember his past and so given him a task for the future; and after this new infusion of will, Jack had found the strength to stand up and fight again.

However, the victory had left a sour taste in the boy's mouth: he would never, ever forget in his life the incredulous expression of Pitch when the children had stopped believing in him, ceasing to see him and even walking through him as they played; and most of all, he would never forget his eyes wide open with sheer terror when the Pureblood Nightmares had dragged him in his lair.

Jack knew he had done the right thing, that day, when he defeated him: the other Guardians had praised him and celebrated the victory, and they had even officially appointed him as one of them. Yet, a shade of sadness had clouded the happiness of the moment, a shade which smacked of betrayal.

While he was thinking about it for the umpteenth time, as always unable to solve the problem, Frost saw a movement in front of him: a shadow, darker than the night, was moving silently, wandering sinuously among the houses, and then it disappeared into a gloomy window. Without further ado, the boy acted: he jumped down from the branch where he had perched, and relying on the icy wind he flew over the village, landing in a bare courtyard.

Peering into the darkness he saw exactly what he expected: Pitch, sitting on a barrel, had his back on him and was carefully modeling some magic sand with his skinny fingers.

Jack could perfectly imagine the sneer on his face: a wicked smile which showed his sharp teeth, and a look of malicious pleasure in knowing he was making someone suffer.

Immediately the boy wielded his trusty staff and threw a cold beam in the direction of the enemy. The Boogeyman was hit fully and thrown against the wall of the house next door, then flung on the ground, where he laid motionless as an inanimate puppet. He barely moved an arm and leaned on his elbow, his head still bowed; at last, almost trembling, he managed to raise his eyes and stare at Jack, and he simply asked: «Why?».

Frost was literally petrified: the man's voice was weak and uncertain, cracked with pain, and his eyes - those beautiful eyes - were filled with sadness and dreadful suffering, and made up to show a look so tired to seem resigned. Pitch Black had changed so much that Frost couldn't believe it: the lively, evil and cunning man had turned into an exhausted, apathetic creature, lacking in will to do anything. The worst thing was that he seemed to have lost not only the desire to frighten and conquer the world, but even to live.

Trying to stay focused and detached, the boy harshly replied: «You were harassing another child, weren't you?».

«Oh Jack, was this the only reason?» said Pitch, raising a hand to him while still lying on the ground. Frost raised his staff to threaten him, but soon he realized that the other was not going to attack him; from the window of the house behind him it came out a little Nightmare: galloping in the night he docilely landed on the palm of the Boogeyman, who hastened to clench his fist, reducing it to dust in his fingers.

«You just needed to ask, Jack...» he said, leaning with much effort on his elbows and knees and then standing against the wall beside him, sighing.

Stunned, Frost dared to ask: «Pitch, what... what happened to you?».

«Are you asking what happened to me?» he answered the other, sarcastic and disenchanted, «Do you want to know why I called back the Nightmare? Why don't I show interest in terrorizing children? What difference would it make, can you tell me? The more I work and the more my efforts seem useless: the best I can get is a night of screams, but in the morning comes the sun, the wonderful sun that takes away all the darkness and fear! You know what it means to do everything to make people believe in you and not even be seen! Do you know what it feels like when a person ignores you so much to run through you!». The tone of his voice increased as the speech went on, but his tired expression had not changed, looking like the frustration was so great to leave him with no hope.

«Pitch, I...».

«You what, Jack?» asked Pitch, more resigned than resentful, «You got what you wanted, Jack: you have kids who believe in you, and who whisper your name in the cold winter nights and when the school is closed for snow, you're even a Guardian, what do you want more? But I have nothing, I reverted to what I was before, a shadow that lurks under the beds».

«Pitch, I'm sorry, I would...» whispered Jack.

«What do you want, Jack? Go away, go and have fun with your new friends, or snowball, I do not care. I want to be alone» the man rounded off, turning his back to the boy, covering his face and making a gesture to drive him away.

Frost could not help but being upset by that gesture, but he immediately walked after the other, determined to try, if not alleviate, at least to understand the excruciating pain.

However, as soon as he moved his right foot, he saw the Boogeyman disappearing into a stream of sparkling black sand with an angry snarl and quickly fly away from the courtyard; the boy though about what to do next for a moment before summoning the cold northern wind.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two good news and an important warning! The warning is... do not suppose how this fanfiction is going on by reading a chapter. Pitch never acts in a foseseeable way, NEVER. ;)  
> The good news: first of all, the next week (or the week after) I'll finish my exams and I will be able to update more frequently! I'm sorry I couldn't until now, but you have to consider that translating takes a lot of time and I hadn't a lot of free time. The second good new is that I found a really kind girl who correct my english chapter, so you should find no mistakes in them! She corrected also chapter 1 and 2 ^^

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 3**

 

Even though the winds Jack had summoned were undeniably fast he couldn't gain upon. He first flew high in the sky, then he skimmed over the ground, he moved forward on soils bare or cluttered with obstacles which he constantly had to dodge, but even if he used all his skill and good will he couldn't reach Pitch. On the contrary the Boogeyman did not seem to encounter the slightest difficulty in escaping, proceeding with lithe movements in every hole or narrow passage interjected between himself and his destination.

In few wild minutes full of fluster the two guys reached a small town, and there the man disappeared, slipping down a manhole cover; in a clumsy attempt to follow him, Frost kneed a curb and rolled up in the middle of the street.

More confused than bruised the boy stood up and tried with all his might to lift the manhole cover, but in vain; while he was pulling he heard some voices in the distance and he hid behind a car: after all having kids who believed in him had also a negative side.

He was thinking about how to solve the problem when it came to his mind when, months before, he had penetrated into the lair of Pitch, attracted by the voice of his sister; he immediately remembered the secret entrance he had used, and without hesitating, he ran there, out of breath.

Once he had lowered himself into the hole in the forest he went along the damp corridor which led him into the core of the Boogeyman's lair, and a gloomy landscape appeared in front of him: a large stone hall, full of dark and remote corners, adorned with stairs and corridors without rhyme or reason, made even less cosy by the icy draughts that blew from every crack, clinking the chains hanging from the ceiling. This, of course, didn't bother Jack; the cave was exactly as he remembered it, and in his memory it was well impressed the absurd feeling of being in his environment, a feeling that he had felt the first and the only time he had been there. The only thing to be different was the globe which stood in the middle of the hall: made of dark metal, it was adorned with thousands of twinkling lights, one for each child who believed in the five Guardians; every light was strong and firm, and it sounded a discordant note in a place so sad.

Jack stood in front of the globe, fascinated like a child in front of a huge Christmas tree, but when he thought about how painful was that view for Pitch he pulled himself together and started to search him.

Finding him was not an easy task: the layout of the cave was deliberately disorienting and the Boogeyman was good at hiding, but Frost was too tenacious and persevering to give up. Cautiously going along a corridor with a sharp bend, the boy reached a secluded room and he finally saw the man: he was sitting on a simple bed, consisting of a worn mattress resting on a large platform of stone jutting from the wall and a blanket so torn to seem colourless, and he held his head in his hands. He didn't turn when she saw him come in, but he merely remarked: «You've followed me even here».

«Yes» Jack said; he approached him and continued hesitantly: «Pitch, I...».

«You what, Jack? You've come here to enjoy the show of my defeat? I never thought you'd the kind of person who wallows in someone else's grief».

Frost froze, unsure, and he finally started to think about why he had followed him there. Why? Why did he crave for the company of the man who had mischievously tried to destroy him, and who probably wanted to hurt him even in that moment? Surely he was not there to rage on his defeat. Maybe had he given in to his usual impertinent curiosity? Had he wanted to know what happened to his enemy? No, neither that, actually. To tell the truth he was there because he desired to meet Pitch: talking to him, listening to him, comforting him, keeping his company... touching him, caressing his silky skin, being courted again by his voluptuous sand, because never, ever before he had felt so good, and so whole. Not even when he had finally discovered his past he had felt an emotion so strong, and mindful of the terrible loneliness felt in Antarctica when the Boogeyman had left him, he was determined not to let happen such a thing again. He did not know how, but he would have never allow the man to leave. He was aware he was pulling a stuntby giving so much confidence to a creature so mischievous, but he was sure they were two kindred spirits, and this certainty was more than enough for him to compensate the danger.

On that account Jack left his staff against the wall opposite the bed, he stepped forward, setting aside all doubts; he got in front of the man, he gently took his sharp face in his hands, as if he was afraid of him getting hurt, and the induced him to raise his golden and black irises, wide open in an amazed and suspicious expression. As soon as he saw them he let himself drown in their sublime beauty, sinking in that blaze of iridescent shades; without even realizing it he started to caress his face light as a feather, and he finally said: «No, Pitch, I came here because you were right: we don't have to be alone».

Naturally Frost bent on the other, placing a gentle kiss on his mouth, and, with the patience of a lover, when he understood Pitch was feeling awkward, he sat astride on his lap, letting him taking his time.

Pitch didn't take long to react: at first he sought his lips again, hesitantly, as if he was afraid of bothering him, but as soon as he felt the boy's cold skin under his own, he could not help himself and pressed a hand on his nape to deepen the contact. Eager to shorten the distance, he slid his tongue into Jack's mouth, drawing his own in a passionate kiss in which he conveyed the urgencies to feel the boybound up with him, and he slipped the arms behind his back, holding him in a tight and possessive hug, from which the Guardian wouldn't be able to get free, even if he wanted to. And Frost was definitely sure he did not want to, not after he had finally recaptured the sensation of being at home and being loved, or rather, desired by someone. Like the first time he threw his arms around the man's neck, uncovering an inch of skin on his waist, but, unlike the first time, the Boogeyman did not just take advantage of this implicit bait by driving tentacles of black sand to touch him: with decision he grabbed the sweatshirt and lifted it, hastily taking it off together with the vest and careless throwing them on the ground, breaking the kiss only for those endless moments while the fabric denied him the contact with the other. As soon as he could, he lasciviously regained Jack's lips, so he slowly rubbed open palms on his back, and where he couldn't reach he sent coils of dark and sparkling mist, as if he wanted to make every inch of the boy's skin his.

Frost sighed heavily to those caresses, so lustful as possessive, and let the magic sand which had reached his neck enveloped him, unable to decide what, between the silky and feather-like coils of darkness and Pitch's tapering and expert hands, was giving himgreater pleasure. He passionately intertwined his fingers through the man's hair and he started a slow descent in order to accompany the shivers which was shaking the Boogeyman: he slowly drew the outline of his ears; he spread them out when he reached the neck, in order to follow every nerve; and finally he brought them together again, making them sink along the plunging neckline of man, feeling his skin as soft as velvet under his fingertips.

When he was a few inches from the waist he felt a low vibration, then he was firmly grabbed by the hips and pushed with little grace and great passion on the bed; trapped under the other he underwent his aggressive and breathtaking kiss, his magic sand touching almost heedless the most sensitive spots of his body, his light weight pressing him and giving him a sublime sense of suffocation. It was manifest by then Pitch liked ruling, and Jack didn't try even for a moment to deny to himself he enjoyed the feel of being led and dominated by him.

The boy took a deep breath when he felt him leaving his mouth, but he soon turned it into a languid sigh when he felt his lips grab his lobe and sucking it; with a shudder he sensed his wet tongue running down his jugular from the jaw to the chest, and then lingering on the hollow spaces of hiscollarbones. Blacks tentacles courted his body, drawing endless and meaningless arabesques and warming again, inexplicably, his lower abdomen, and the Boogeyman's hands were not less: the left one, fixed to support the man, tickled that little sensitive point behind Frost's ear, while the right one, free, wandered on his chest. Using only the tips of his fingertipsPitch absently followed a spiral around the his navel, and then, as if he had suddenly chosen the path to take, he strongly clutched his hip: mimicking the gesture of scratching he went along the outer line of his thigh to the knee, then opened his palm, caressing the inside to reach the groin.

When Jack was touched so intimately he gave a start for pleasure and wonder: he groaned loudly, opening his eyes but not seeing anything in front of him and turning his head; he hunched his back like a wild horse, pressing his chest against the man's and clinging to his shoulders, with such a strength and a rapture to give the impression of wanting to merge with him; and finally, with shameful astonishment, he rubbed his pelvis against the hand which had caressed him, seeking for satisfaction to an unknown desire. Frost didn't know what love and sex were, he had never experienced them: no one, in his three centuries long life, had ever bothered to talk to him, explaining what physical attraction was, setting out what a person could do to give pleasure to another. All he had done up to that moment had resulted from his instinct or had been the imitation of his partner's gestures, and because of his ignorance Jack kept all his innocence in approaching the pleasures of the flesh, and didn't considered giving himself to a man, furthermore an enemy: every movement and thought he had were as voluntary as innocent, and he would never have had second thoughts about them.

Perfectly aware of that, he let himself go, completely giving himself to the man: he languidly opened his legs, in order to leave space to his lover, and he let out a liberating groan when he felt his fingers undo his trousers that held his growing erection; afraid to scratch him too hard Jack moved his hands from Pitch's back to the bed, clawing the sheets more and more frantically to every lewd caress he received and closing his eyes, and he followed the hot chills arching his bony shoulders. Trembling he felt the coils of sand founding under him to tickle his back's skin, from the waist to the shoulders, and he surrendered to the pleasure the Boogeyman was giving him: among the soft sighs he hoarsely whispered his name, as an invocation.

«Pitch...» he sensually murmured, in a call is as simple as lustful, in a total abandonment to the will of the other, in an unconditional surrender manifested by diffuse redness on his cheeks, by his dull and dreamy eyes, but especially by the pose as natural as indecent of his body, almost unaware in his innocence to be so seductive.

An answer reached the boy's ears, uttered with a deep and calm tone: «Jack..».

The call seemed to come from everywhere, like the time when the Boogeyman had decoyed him in his lair; after few seconds Frost continued to feel his intimate caresses, but he realized he couldn't feel the light weight of the other on himself, and he tried to move his hands to reach him.

Sand. He felt only silky and shiny sand flowing among his fingers. With growing awareness he heard the Pitch's voice coming on his left, from the other side of the room: the man was standing and watched him with treacherous eyes, his back against the wall, his head slightly bowed, indecently revealing the neckline of the robe as to provoke Jack even more.

«Jack, oh, Jack, you're old but you've never grown up: we should learn from our mistakes, didn't you know that? You should have waited me there, huddled on the bottom of the precipice, because now the time of my victory has come!».

Frost widened his eyes and stretched out his arm toward the other in a vain attempt to stop him, but Pitch, with a grin of pure evil, clenched his hands on the stick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm late, I had a lot of work to do in this period... but now I'm free!!! I'll continue to translate, this week I'll probably translate chapter 5 and 6, maybe more ^^ I'll give you some news in the next translation!

 

 

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTEN THAN COLD AND DARK – PART 4**

 

 

With a satisfied sneer Pitch clutched the staff in his hands, blatantly lifting it in front of Jack, and he immediately screamed.

A shocking and frantic cry burst from the bottom of his throat, echoing among the stone walls of the room, so high with despair. He had never, ever in his life felt a pain so excruciating, so absolute: it seemed he was clutching in his palms two hedgehogs on fire.

He fell on the ground, writhing, and he stared his hands, terrified: the fingers were completely covered with a thin layer of ice, the backs pitch black colour and the wrists of a black-and-blue mark which showed the first signs of a gangrene. Gritting his teeth, he appealed to his last shred of rational will he had and he hooked the curved top of the staff in an iron ring sticking on the wall: pulling with his arms and pushing a foot against the stones in order to break free, he managed to break away from the icy sceptre, tumbling to the floor. A broken moan escaped from his lips and he closed his eyes, in the attempt of pulling himself together, but, when he opened them, he wished to be blind.

His hands, his tapering and beautiful hands were reduced to two miserable scrawny stumps: the fingers, bent into claws, no longer reacting and they were gloved by a thin layer of frost, so inadequately perfect to look like a precious lace; the backs were tensed and cracked, rough as sandpaper; however, the worst part was undoubtedly the soft area between index and thumb: a gash, opened during the mad and desperate jerks to break free, tore the flesh, so deeply that it showed the articulation. Dark and thick blood gushed from the wounds, dripping on the ground, collecting in a gruesome puddle under his incredulous eyes, and the man stared at it: he had reacted quickly to the power of the staff, but he wasn't fast enough to prevent the cold from freezing his limbs, and these, irreparably weakened, had been able only to buckle and break up.

A movement on his right side startled him, causing him to turn around: Jack, already free from the sand which Pitch had lost control over since he had started screaming, got off the bed and approached him, walking slowly and with a hint of uncertainty. Stumbling in the long robe the Boogeyman stepped back, crawling and dragging, pushing down on his elbows and knees in order not to torture further his wounded hands; when he hit the wall he pressed himself against it and lifted his arms in a cross to defend himself, too shocked to even try to stand up, his eyes opened wide like he was a hunted prey.

Frost joined him and leaned toward him, with tears in his eyes, then he whispered: «Oh, Pitch, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry: I did not want this happening. I tried to stop you, but you didn't listened to me».

In the lack of dignity, the Boogeyman regained a least of boldness and he yelled: «What are you talking about? You planned this from the beginning, didn't you? You wanted to deceive me! How the hell did you manage to activate the stick if you didn't touched it?».

«No, I never wanted this: let me fix that» said the boy with a worried voice.

Immediately he stretched his arms toward the other and the man instinctively twitched: unable to protect himself in any other way he turned his face on a side and he raised his hands, but Jack simply took them in a firm but gentle grip. He thoughtfully ran his fingertips over his skin injured, from the broken nails to the wrists, touching it lightly in order not to make him suffer more, and he continued to cuddle him, caressing his sharp fingers.

Too amazed by his snuggles and unable to explain why he was treating him with such sweetness after being cruelly deceived, Pitch underwent, but he couldn't find the courage to turn around and look: on the contrary he closed his eyes and he feebly moved his fingers in contact with Frost.

Under his light touch he felt his skin loosening and lighting of fire as tenuous as wrong. How, how could such a heat come from a creature of ice? How could the man have tensed muscles already dead? With great amazement the Boogeyman opened his eyes and stared his hands, shocked: the veil of frost had gone, recalled by the boy's power, and the skin had regained its natural grey colour, no longer interrupted by the rough cracks; opening his mouth in disbelief he saw his joints recovering their mobility gradually the livid blue disappeared, and his breath stopped when he realized that Jack was about to direct his attention to the two deep wounds.

The man never saw him reach them: as soon as Frost was just few millimeters far from them, every perception was cancelled, and the only beautiful thing that he could get was his own flesh coming back to life. He opened his eyes widened, but he couldn't focus anything: he felt something warm trickling on the cuts, giving back sensitivity to his nerves, and it seemed to him that every fibre of the muscles shook and stretched, twisting until it reached the broken twin and finally welding back with it.

A warm shiver crossed his forearms, going down weakly to the thighs and then back, voluptuousness brushing his groin, spreading to the neck, and Pitch could only follow it, arching his back to the breaking point as the wall behind him permitted it, exposing with unwitting indecency his chest and neck. He turned his face upward, staring at a ceiling he couldn't see, and, finally, without realizing it, without even being able to think about stop it, he bursted into a sensual moan: at first deep and so low that it couldn't be heard, almost just a vibration of his chest, it turned slowly, taking shape and volume, flowing more and more complete from his vocal cords, up to the acute culmination at the limits of the obscenity.

He remained tense in that position a few seconds, shaken, still crossed by that indescribable thrill, then the muscles gave up and he had to lean against the wall, though not changing his pose licentiously improper. Gasping, he ran his tongue over his lips and slowly raised his eyes to Jack, just to address him a lascivious look, his eyes blurred with excitement and full of lusty promises, as though he had just had an orgasm. He slowly drowned in the irises of Jack, of a sapphire blue so intense to hurt him, adorned with clearer fine specks like the wintry puddles of ice crystals, and it seemed to him that there was nothing else in the world: he could only sink inexorably into those two mirrors of purest water, crystalline and cold as a high-altitude lake at the foot of a glacier.

After a while a thoughtful voice made him gradually emerge: «Pitch... Pitch! Are you okay? I recalled the ice. Are your hands still hurting?».

The man answered with a strained and incomprehensible smile, watching him from the bottom up; the boy seemed reassured and continued in a serious voice: «Pitch, I didn't want to hurt you before, I swear, but you must never try to steal my staff. I'm not afraid of you anymore, Pitch, and you can't take by force what I don't want to spontaneously give you».

Pitch hoarsely replied: «Really, Jack?».

“Do you really think you have no fear at all? Do you think you have erased forever this emotion? You can not defeat fear, Jack, not forever. But, above all, do you really think that I can't have you? That I can't take by force? Challenge accepted, Jack» he thought, not talking aloud. His mind was still clouded because of the experience he just had had, the ideas didn't express themselves in a clear and fully understandable way, but a clear irrepressible instinct had emerged from his chest: he wanted and had to make him his. No matter how many sweet-talks, threats, promises or intimidations would have been necessary: sooner or later he would have bent and destroyed him, and in the day he would have seen the defeat in those crystalline eyes he would have been certain he had won.

Frost frowned at the sound of those two simple words, probably disappointed in front of his stubborness; seeing him moving he stepped backward, to leave him space and allow him to stand up, but a surprised look came over his face when he saw how the other was behaving.

Pitch, in fact, didn't used the space allowed to him to pull himself up: he slowly leaned his back forward, from the pelvis, vertebra by vertebra, in a calm and lithe arching, offering the neckline and neck; when the shiver reached his shoulder, he left them dangling and, immediately after them, also the head, supporting himself on his bent arms and exposing his nape. With no hurry he lifted up the front, until his irises were partially visible to Jack, and he stared at him with a languid and possessive expression, grinning with satisfaction.

With feline movements he stretched out the right arm in front of him and he walked towards the boy, crawling slowly and loading every act of desire: the manly darting of his back muscles, the lithe swaying of the shoulders and pelvis, the pinned strength, the predator gaze, everything about him cried out for danger and lust. He looked like a panther: black, strong, with yellow eyes, he blocked his prey on site with the magic of his irises, so obviously treacherous, yet so inevitably irresistible, just as Pitch and only Pitch could be. The Boogeyman had always been well aware of how his body and his wickedness could be cruel temptations for the other creatures, and he had always been able to make the most of them: he was sure that that method would have never make him fail.

With great satisfaction he saw Frost stepping back, puzzled, then stopping, enchanted by the scene, unable to look away. Resolute the man went on toward his destination, until he was able to touch, with the tip of his fingers, the left shin of the boy; he lingered on his leg, follow it up and down with his fingertips, brushing it absent-mindedly, and then, with a whimsical lunge, he clawed the lace that held his trousers on his calves and he tore it, running his tongue over his lips in an indecent allusion; enervating calmly he reached out his left arm to the other thigh, caressing it, and again, without any warning, he broke the tape, twin of the first.

At this second and abrupt action Jack, until then mesmerized by the man, lost his balance and stumbled back: with a fast leap Pitch jumped up and grabbed him by the neck, holding him possessively to himself, to keep him from falling. He stared at him from above, cheeky, enjoying seeing the bewilderment in his eyes; in a transport of control he tightened the grip of his the fingers, until he felt every beat of his heart gone crazy, and forcing him to open his mouth, in search of oxygen, and he didn't granted it to him: it was too cruelly satisfying seeing him trying to gasp for breath, leaning on his chest, dominated by his shape.

A wicked smile bore spontaneously on his face, another temptress threat to break up the boy, and he thought: "The challenge has begun, Jack. And you've already lost".

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm late, but the gentle girl who control my translation was ill ^^.  
> I decided I will publish at least a chapter a week, probably on Saturday. If I can I will publish more than a chapter a week, but I don't think I could, because next chapters are really long XD.  
> Chapter 6 will be published this Saturday evening! (italian time zone)

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK – PART 5**

 

 

"The challenge has begun, Jack, and you've already lost”.

This treacherous and magnificent thought gave Pitch a heady sense of omnipotence and he showed his sharp teeth in a smile of priceless satisfaction. He almost regretted being so rude, clutching Jack's thin neck with his fingers, and he immediately freed him, finally allowing him to breathe.

He backed up to leave him more space, staring at him with a clear and relaxed gaze, his arms at his sides, his head slightly bowed as if to demurely show a belated repentance. After all, there was no reason to act so cruelly with Frost: he seemed easy to enchant and a brutal aggression would have induced him to react, not to be afraid of him. There was no need to be cruel, of course: but he wouldn't miss the opportunity to do so.

Absently the Boogeyman stretched out his right leg behind the left of the boy and, unfairly laughing, he tripped him, making him fall on the edge of the bed. Jack, in response, backed up, pushing down on his elbows and feet on the mattress, but he didn't try to escape and he, indeed, turned his expression into one absolutely incomprehensible for the man.

Pitch, indifferent, didn't give too much importance to it: it wasn't the right time to be in wonder if the other, naively, played along and facilitated his task. It didn't matter why the boy remained voluntarily in his clutches, and, indeed, he almost seemed to invite him to take advantage of him: the only thing the Boogeyman had to worry about was achieving his goal and reaching it as quickly and satisfactorily as possible.

That was the reason why he had no doubts when he saw Frost, nor when he put his knee on the blankets and he rushed at him: for him the only thing which counted was winning. Without any kindness he pressed the open palm on his sternum, forcing him to lie down at all, and he bent down to torture his chest with his lips. Very slowly he began to went up again, brushing his collarbones and then his shoulders, while his fingers silently slid around his thin neck, again, helplessly responding to the irresistible lure of that part of the body so attractive and fragile: however, this time he didn't hold it tightly, but he just pinned him against the bed, preventing him from rising up. Slowly he followed the line of his jaw, finally reaching the mouth, and there he stopped within a hair's breadth of it, making sure that they couldn't touch each other, but only stir their breaths together.

The Boogeyman shuddered when he realized how exciting was that position: standing above the boy, force him to stay beneath him and having him totally in his power, and yet denying him the contact, staying at a short but provocative distance, it was almost more enjoyable than kissing him.

After a while, however, he felt something warm and soft caressing his teeth and, opening his eyes, he saw a scene as unexpected as obscenely seductive. Jack was looking for him, craving him so ardently to reach out towards him, clinging to his shoulders and pushing against his hand, tyrant jailer, and, when he failed to reach him, he had finally stuck out his tongue and brushed it on his lips, in a final attempt to lure him to himself.

The man stood there a moment, too stunned by the audacity of the other to be able to react, but soon, with a wicked smile, he pulled himself together and reacted: with his tongue he drew its twin in a sensual dance, mastering the impetuous desire of the boy with lust, but he still didn't allow their mouths to touch themselves. That craved union, in fact, should have performed not in a tender kiss, but in a lustful exchange of avid caresses: once he had been gone, leaving him alone, Jack would have had to remember that time and how, with unforgivable weakness, he had been seduced, to the point to behave indecent and to be drawn in obscene games; he would have had to repent and be ashamed of how he had given himself, until he would have felt completely annihilated, and, at that point, he would have simply let everyone to forget him, isolating himself, and, as an empty vase, he would have been ready to be topped up, filled to the brim with fear and awe, in order to become the perfect weapon.

With a naughty bite Pitch ended the kiss and went down to his neck, while his hand slowly slid on the whole chest to his side, in a soft caress amplified by the coils of sand that he had called. For the umpteenth time he stopped to torment Frost's throat, so white and silky, inhaling the pure scent of snow it emanated: almost without realizing it he began to brush that little flap of skin just below the jaw, so soft and yielding, with his lips and teeth, and when he reluctantly went away, he saw that the skin had reddened, becoming almost purple.

Perfect, _sublime_. He had to cover Frost with bruises and hickeys, leaving them wherever he could, in order to declare him his, and he had to make sure they were as red and lasting as possible, so that they could last for days, indelible: every time Jack would have decided to freeze something he would have mirrored himself in the evoked ice and he should have remembered how he had been his, and how he would have been his again and again, until he would have been induced not to use his staff any more, in the attempt not to remind how he had been and would have been helpless. Pitch could already imagine him: nestling at the bottom of a ravine, his blue hood on his head to cover the eyes of hunted prey, his chest shaken by the weeping gasps of fear; then, a tentacle of dark and silent mist which crawled, curious, twisting around his ankle, and the final defeat: a scream of pure terror, full of endless despair, the last shred of rationality which burst into dust and his willingness clay in the hands of the Boogeyman. Definitely and wickedly wonderful as a conclusion, and as the beginning of a new era.

Lost in this fantasy the man realized he had started to gently cuddle the other, thoughtfully stroking his neck and his side, and he decided to immediately counterbalance: with unexpected rapidity he sank his teeth into the boy's jugular vein and he clawed a buttock, pushing him boldly against his pelvis and tightening the grip of the sand around his chest.

The broken gasp he heard was music to his ears: Jack really seemed to enjoy that courting, albeit tinged with a slight violence, and he rewarded him by moaning, trying to cling to him and to give him pleasure, too, eagerly arching under his expert touch. He was irresistible in his innocent lust, charming in the most perverse and wrong way in his naively playing with fire and awakening the panther that was the inner soul of Pitch, and he would have paid the consequences, all the way.

With a low growl the Boogeyman left the boy's neck to start a long and unbearably hesitant descent: inch by inch he marked with his teeth every point of that hyaline skin, following an imaginary line on the left of his sternum, moving a bit and then going back, in order to soothe the bites he had done with his soft lips and tongue, the bites he had done. His hands, in the meantime, climbed down, determined, touching Frost only with the fingertips to send him hot chills and wending towards his thigh, and, when they reached his knees, they reversed with a slow curve, lasciviously going along the sensitive inner part, until they cupped around his hard cock.

The jolt of Jack and the high-pitched whine he couldn't hold back confirmed to Pitch he was touching the right cords: slightly rearing his head to send his partner a mischievous smile he continued the caress, grabbing the two hems of his undone trousers in a gentle but firm grip. Languidly kissing the area around the navel he began to lower his trousers, deliberately lingering on his groin to steal a gasp, taking them off up to the knees, and, too eager not to break contact even for few seconds, he used the magic sand to remove them all, making it sliding along Frost's thin calves and ankles.

With open palms he rubbed again the inner part of his thighs, then he ventured to go down with his mouth, up to the point his erection pushed itself against his throat, and he couldn't hold back a low and vibrant sigh in feeling that swollen organ pressed against him, awakened by his caresses, pulsating only because he was near it, wanting to be touched and satisfied only by him.

Impatient the Boogeyman drew on the boy's leg, with his right forefinger, an elaborate doodle, reaching close to the protruding bone of his pelvis, and he absently started playing with the waistband of his pants, but a muffled sound caught his attention: raising his eyes he saw that Jack had turned his head to one side, biting his wrist to stifle an acute of pleasure and demurely hiding behind his contracted hand.

Oh, finally, finally he was showing the long-awaited shame! Pitch could not be more satisfied... or, maybe, he could. That embarrassment could be extended and magnified up till it would have swallowed the mind of Frost: he just had to torture him in the right way.

With a wicked grin the man straightened up, he abruptly grabbed with his left arm the forearm the partner was clutching among his teeth and he moved it over his head, pressing it in a grip of steel against the sheets and exposing his face.

He fully relished the shy withdrawal of the other and his eyes wide open when he felt the last faint barrier of cloth being lowered; shivering he hesitantly touched his cock, skin against skin, silk against silk, and he almost melted when he saw Jack voluptuously arching, opening his lips in a hot moan, closing his eyes to hide his liquid irises and the dilated pupils.

Trembling Pitch deepened the contact, caressing him more decisively, and he slowly bent on his chest to inhale his smell, still fresh, but, at that time, loaded with a new scent, warm and spicy, seductively intoxicating. He quietly moaned when he felt the boy's free hand insinuating into his neckline, stroking his hairless chest, boldly exposing him a shoulder and reaching his back: his touch was so gentle, so caring, so softly exciting, so... so wrong! No! He could not let him making him lose control! He had to make Frost his, not to be seduced by him.

Abruptly shaking his shoulder he pushed him away and he called up his robe, created not with common cloth, but made of pure darkness, so thick it could be woven, so black it absorbed every ray of light. With relief he felt Jack meekly withdrawing and simply stroking his neck, but he didn't realize the Guardian was far from giving up and being completely subdued.

While Pitch returned to his chest the other touched his nape with pretended nonchalance, then, naughtily biting his own lip, he grabbed the collar of his robe and, with a fluid motion, he pulled it down, freezing the cloth and tearing it in tiny shreds, exposing his back from the shoulders to the waist.

The Boogeyman felt the movement inch by inch, involuntarily arching his backbone to follow the cold shiver and, when it reached his tailbone, suddenly pressing his pelvis against his one, and, finally, he found himself panting, abandoned on the body of the boy, his eyes widened, trying to recover from that chill so sensual: the only parts of the garment which had endured were only the sleeves and a few other frayed shreds. He would have never expected such a boldness from Frost, he would have never imagined he could be so daring he could wrong-foot him, but, after all, this behaviour could play in his hands. Did Jack want him so bad he was disposed to dare so much? Did he desire him with such passion he wasn't afraid to show himself so eager and impetuous? Oh, if he insisted so much he would have reached what he wanted, without any doubt, but then he would have been drowned in guilt.

Softly laughing, the man let the shreds of his robe dissolving, stripping to the waist, but he kept covered the lower part of his body, still dressed up with his tight trousers; with a jolt he took possession of Frost's lips again, imposing himself in a lustful and avid kiss, not hesitating to bite his tongue when he became too active or too shy; with a silent order he called the magic sand and let it flowing over his skin in sinuous and silky ribbons which twirled around his thighs, his thin neck and forearms, touching his sensitive spots; finally, with mischievous slowness, he slid his right hand towards his groin.

The umpteenth moan of Jack, the umpteenth victory of Pitch. With languid cruelty the Boogeyman caressed him more firmly, breaking his breath, shaking his nerves deeply, until the boy put his free arm around his back, looking for a contact even more intimate and absolute, if it ever been possible.

«Oh, yes, Jack, cling to me, cling to me with all your strength: the more you ask for and the more you condemn yourself! My perdition, my body, my touch, _everything_ will be impressed in your memory, everything will make you feel soiled with the unforgivable sin of having sold out yourself, everything will make you be afraid of me, of the power I have over you... Cling to me, Jack! Cling to me and let me drag you in the abyss!"thought the man, unable to hold back the exaltation in feeling that the other, unconsciously, was behaving exactly like he wanted and he was ruining himself with his own hands.

Resolute the Boogeyman continued the sensual massage and, noticing that the boy could no longer follow him, he broke the kiss, taking the opportunity to watch him. An ecstatic vision stood out in front of his eyes: Frost had bowed his head, his eyes clouded, and he was languidly showing his flushed cheeks and his snowy neck still trapped in the tentacles of darkness which contrasted so much with it; his chest was sharply moving up and down, shaken by the irregular gasps he gave off, and his pelvis started to go along with the soft caresses he received with rhythmic thrusts.

The more Pitch touched him, the more Jack got lost, pushing himself against him, clinging to his back with so much passion he scratched it, turning his sighs from soft and whispered to more and more urgent. It was with a groan of sincere frustration that he reacted to the sudden pause of the man, came on time just before the orgasm, and it was with a moan of relief that he rewarded him, feeling him restart.

The Boogeyman enjoyed almost to madness seeing how the other reacted to his touch and melted in his hands, letting him moulding him like clay; instinctively tyrannical he continued to play with him, touching him until he felt the orgasm coming and stopping immediately before it, watching how his muscles contracted for the denied contact, and eventually, after few minutes of wicked provoking without giving, he felt him grabbing his right arm just below the elbow and he heard a voice hoarse and broken by the expectation crying.

«Ah! Pitch... please... I beg you...».

I beg you. _I beg you_. Two words so simple, yet so absolute. Jack, the innocent Jack was begging him! Of course even before, using the body language, he had made him understand what he wanted: those languid eyes, those legs obscenely opened, those hot moans, everything in him and in his oxymoronic luxurious purity was pleading him to satisfy him, to soil him like the snow on the side of the road. Those silent prayers, however, didn't count any longer: there could not be anything more perfect than hear him beg, nothing! That was the official point of no return. Before that Frost could have denied to himself he had desired him, he could have distorted his own memories, saying that, with his arm, he had not searched for him, but tried in vain to reject him; that plea, on the contrary, could not be erased: that plea would have been unforgettable in his mind, omnipresent reminder of his weakness in front of the Lord of Nightmares.

With a satisfied grin he contracted his wrist and he continued what he had interrupted; it didn't take long: after few languid caresses he felt the other's body tensing and his breath stopping, and he was sure he had won.

Pushing his chest against the man's one so hard he let him feel his heart become crazy the boy came in his hand, biting in vain his own lip to hold back a liberating and satisfied moan, which echoed in the room anyway; he stopped with his muscles contracted for few moments, shaken by the intense and overwhelming orgasm which had literally knocked him down; then, finally, he relaxed, lying on the sheets, motionless under the Boogeyman, his right arm still trapped above his head and his eyes closed, panting heavily.

A shudder shook Pitch when he realized he had been the witnessed and the maker of the first sexual pleasure of Jack - because it was the first in his whole life, he was sure of this since he had kissed him the first time on the headland in Antarctica. Having, at the same time, given and stolen him this experience excited him, the idea he could bring it up gave him an amazing sense of control, he felt he had the power in his right hand, instead of his first hot semen, and this was just a small overture to what he had planned to do in the future.

Satisfied he looked up, watching Frost trustfully abandoned under him, and, as the Boogeyman, he couldn't use the occasion to betray him.

With an unexpected twist he freed his wrist and he cruelly tightened his fingers around his neck; with a small tug he made him to open his lips, swollen with bites and kisses, asking for oxygen, even more necessary than usual at that time, and he forced him to look at him: he wanted to see the fear spreading in his eyes and laugh at it with contempt and superiority.

Unlike he expected he was not satisfied: Jack, in fact, smiled and looked at him with an incomprehensible expression. His irises were not like the ones of a frightened child, at all: they were addressing him a look that could be seen only in a mature and aware man, and they seemed to know something which the man was clueless about.

Pitch stared at him, dumbfounded, but he recovered almost immediately so as not to appear weak in front of the boy he wanted to master: assuming a wicked grin he tightened his grip, he got closer to Jack's face and he stuck out his tongue, lasciviously licking his reddened lips and mischievously insinuating it inside them in an indecent allusion; then, as suddenly as he had seized him, he freed him, springing up and staying between his legs.

Languid he let his eyes slid on his figure, from his irises to his thighs slightly opened, deliberately focusing on his relaxed cock half-hidden by his pants, assuming an avid expression to embarrass him, then, finally, with a sinuous movement, he got off the bed, recalling the darkness in his power to recreate the torn robe, and he left the room, walking away without looking back.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 will be published on the next Saturday, if you're lucky even before Saturday ;)

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 6**

 

“Damn!" thought Pitch, hidden in the shadows of the room, leaning against the stone wall. The look that Jack Frost had sent him just before he went away was absolutely incomprehensible: what, what could have gone wrong?  
Half-closing his eyes the Boogeyman gritted his teeth and he kept himself from punching the wall: he could make himself invisible in the darkness, but certainly not inaudible in a movement so clumsy and brutal. Taking a deep breath he tried to simmer down: maybe it was just too soon, maybe it had to pass more time before the boy would get aware of what had happened, and before he would take in it, and he would feel shame, then fear, then terror. Actually there were several steps that should lead him to the final phase, and the man should have been happy to see Frost slowly going through them: the longer he would have let him seduce him, the deeper would have been the guilt once felt it.  
Yes, it was exactly like that, there was no need to be caught up in anxiety: at the right time everything would have gone right. Meanwhile he could take advantage of the situation, play with Jack, enjoy initiating him into sex and watch him while he moaned for pleasure: a pastime really not bad, considering the shiver of excitement it had crossed him at the mere thought; of course, just in order to start, he could watch him recovering from his first sexual experience.  
Taking a deep breath to calm down Pitch, finally, turned his face, directing his gaze to the bed: he slowly went up, with his irises, along the trousers of the other, twisted with the threadbare sheets and carelessly abandoned on the edge of the bed, about to fall to the ground; with a calm full of expectation he ran his gaze along the boy's snowy leg, lingering a little on his covered groin, almost stumbling in his protruding ribs, and, finally, sliding along the jugular vein and reaching his face. He could not help smiling in noticing that, by chance, Jack had just turned towards him: unconsciously he was exposing himself to him, his lips swollen with kisses half-opened in an instinctive attempt to catch a breath, his cheeks flushed slowly regaining their whiteness, his liquid eyes half closed and lost in a blurred world which, with no doubt, was the only thing they could capture at that time.  
Frost hadn't moved since the Boogeyman had left the room, returning back few seconds after: visibly exhausted he had lain as he had been, his right arm bent above his head, his left one abandoned along his side, his legs still slightly opened, regardless of the questionable comfort of the position, or of its undeniable provocativeness. Whether he was aware of it or not, whether his lust was voluntary or innate his body was still badly begging to be soiled like the snow on the roadside, Pitch was certain about this. After all, how could he deny the fierce attraction he felt in watching him? How could he ever hide the painful constriction he felt around the groin, suffocated by his trousers too tight, the willing to seduce him again, the brutal desire to lie down on him and touch him again and again? However, that wasn't the right time: he had to be patient and not yield to temptation, contenting to get satisfied only with his eyes, and he did so, not holding back a grimace of painful frustration.  
Taken with the figure in front of him he immediately noticed that, slowly, Jack was recovering: the colour of is skin was gradually getting back to the usual hyaline, his chest was moving up and down with more regularity, his eyelids finally lifted, revealing eyes still blurred. Holding his breath the man looked at him, watching him moving with faint moan, stretching his legs and then bending them and lifting his chest, leaning on his elbows; after a short pause all the boy changed his position with a fluid motion, sitting on the lateral side of the bed, his arms outstretched, his hands clinging to the edge of the mattress, his head dangling, slowly swinging his feet like a child, as he seemed to be at that time.  
Leaning out he bent to retrieve his hoodie and shirt and Pitch, instinctively, moved back even more, fully flattening against the wall, shadow among shadows to avoid being discovered, too curious to go away. Motionless he watched the boy disentangling the messy pile of white and blue cloth which none of the two lovers, caught by passion, had bothered to separate, let alone to neatly fold; bewitched he followed his lean fingers lowering the clothes on his bony chest, slowly sliding on the blankets and freeing, not without some difficulty, the trousers from the sheet; finally, he watched him wearing them with a look of sadness, as if he repented that he had left the room, as if he wished they were his fingers, and not the other's ones, tightening them around his thin waist and tying the catch.  
Stretching for the last time Jack stood up, stumbling a little, as if his legs had not recovered enough to support him; at a faltering pace he started to walk, but he immediately stopped, as he had suddenly realized something.  
A slight panic grasped the Boogeyman's throat when he saw the other moving right towards the corner where he was hidden, but the boy came to a grinding halt few feet far from him, crouching on the floor.  
Surprised, the man lowered his irises to know what Frost was looking for, and, when he spotted some torn strands, it took him a moment to remember that they were the remains of the laces that Frost used to put around his calves. He couldn't hold back a mischievous smile in recalling how he had ripped them up, bewitching their owner with the sensual spell of his gaze, and he couldn't help turning it into a wicked grin when he saw the partner diligently rummaging among the frayed laces, probably trying to recover something wearable.  
With an irritable gesture Jack stood up, kicking the shreds to scatter them and clenched his fists, frowning, but, after a while, he calmed down and he burst into an amused laughter, not noisy or coarse, but natural and unobtrusive as the soft murmur of a crystalline and pure spring, like only the snow can be. Smiling, he shook his head and whispered: «Oh, Pitch, if I 'll freeze, it will be all your fault!».  
With his sapphire eyes still full of hilarity he finally turn his back on the Boogeyman and, grabbing the staff leaning against the wall, he went along the corridor, walking slowly; when he arrived to the sharp bend he turned one last time, to address a serene look to the room and the bed on which he had just lain, then he disappeared behind the stone wall.  
Pitch immediately let himself go with a deep sigh, realizing only at that moment that he had been holding his breath for almost all the time; curling his lips in a sarcastic expression he leaned his head against the wall, slowly closing his eyes as he tried to focus only on the rhythmic inhale and exhale.  
Slowly, his wrinkled forehead smoothed and his look turned serious, almost severe, while some images spontaneously recurred to his mind, flashes of what had happened in the last hours: Jack attacking him, Jack chasing him, Jack kissing him and letting him seduce him, Jack hurting him with the power of his staff, Jack taking care of him and submitting to him again, Jack hugging him, Jack letting him caress him and begging, Jack finally coming in his palm, Jack smiling to him although he had been betrayed, Jack, Jack, Jack... Jack, who, as it seemed, just didn't want to leave him alone, harassingly recurring to his memories every time he tried to push him away, with his expression so damn happy, so mature, absolutely inexplicable and incomprehensible. Why, when he felt him clawing his throat just when he needed most to breathe, just when he was trustingly abandoned into his arms, had he smiled at him, so calm, so understanding? It didn't make sense at all. However, the Guardian had never shown so much judgment in his long life, devoted more to jokes than to seriousness: maybe he was still thinking this was just a game, maybe he was certain that he was holding the whip hand, that he could leave the game whenever he wanted, when the thrill of fear would have started to tinge each new experience, whatever it was. Oh, he was completely wrong in this case! Pitch would have never allowed him to run away, he would have called him back with the simple lure of temptation, shortening the leash every time, tying him more and more to himself, taming him until he would have been able to keep him on his side without having to use either rope or muzzle. Until he could call him without uttering his name, until he could manipulate him without a word. Until he could look into his eyes and see them overrun by fear, so wide with terror to show the entire iris.  
Inevitably, the man recurred from his memories those two small blue rings, so beautiful, so clear and yet so deep, so sweet, as ardent as the ice he evoked was cold, as hot as it had been his semen in his hand. At that thought Pitch instinctively moved his right palm in front of his bowed face, looking at the skin is still wet with a stare expression, almost melancholy. Right now the liquid had cooled, like the room, like the passion: he was alone again.  
Slowly he lowered his arm, leaning with his back against the wall, his eyes hazy, his head turned on the right side, his neckline and neck carelessly exposed, as if he was waiting for caring cuddles more than lewd caresses; after few moments, however, he shook himself and he erased the human expression he had shown, replacing it with the usual evil grin. Oh, what silly thoughts had occurred to him! Alone? He was never alone: a whole cohort of Nightmares followed him, whispering him the fears of people, and he just needed to do a little gesture to make it attack!  
As if to confirm that to himself the man evoked a beautiful Pureblood Stallion, high and mighty, his eyes burning with an unhealthy yellow light, his jaws half opened to show a set of razor- sharp teeth. It was perfect, as always, of course: his fearsome servants could only be magnificent and terrible beasts. With his left hand he stroked the creature's neck, languidly following the muscles, voluptuous intertwining his fingers into the ethereal mane made of magic sand and not hesitating to tug it when he saw the cutting fangs getting too close to his shoulder; after all, the creature which he was in front of was and would always be a demon, deceivable, subjectable, but never tamable. He remembered too well how the dark host had had rebelled against him few months before, only because they have sensed his fear, and that should never happen again.  
In one fluid motion he got onto on the Nightmare, bending on his neck to whisper him his destination, and, in doing so, he stretched the fabric of his robe on the back: immediately he felt a series of tiny burning stabs, painful and pleasing at the same time, and he realized that they were the light scratches Jack had made him.  
Curious, he dropped the robe to watch them and he had to admit that those bruises were not exactly light: the shoulder blades were thickly decorated with marks, literally carved into the skin, in some parts so deeply they showed bloody scratches; the rest of the back was not visible to him from that position, but he could easily imagine how it had been reduced. The innocent Jack, after all, could be a very ardent partner.  
He couldn't help giggling for the last mischievous thought he had done, but, soon regaining his seriousness, he dressed up, he tighten his legs to the sides of the Pureblood and urged him to walk along the corridor.  
When he arrived at the sharp bent he stopped the animal and he turned one last time to look at the room, like Jack had done before him, lifting again in front of his face his right hand, still soaked with the fresh and spicy scent of the boy. Few seconds of suspension, then he lowered his arm, turning forward, abandoning all those sentimental and compassionate vestiges, becoming again the Boogeyman. Proud, arrogant, his back up and a cruel expression: this was his essence, his only way of being.  
With an order and a well-aimed kick he spurred the beast, setting it off at a gallop. A ride through the night, in search of a new victim, and another one, and another one, to fortify himself. A ride to the victory, to prepare for the coming of a new era!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I promised you I would have published the chapter yesterday, but the gentle girl who revises my translation was busy.  
> From now all the chapters will be as long as this one, some of them even more, so I'll need about 3 or 4 days to translate them: have patience, please XD.  
> I'll finish to translate chaper 8 on Tuesday or Wednesday and I'll try to publish it on Saturday; if I don't, please, consider that the gentle girl who revises my translation can't always control them immediately ^^ (and that, even if I make just 4 or 5 mistakes a chapter, I prefer to wait for her correction)

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK – PART 7**

 

 

Pitch was on the boundary of a field, in the no man's land on the border between a small village and the surrounding forest, and he was quietly carried by one of his most beautiful Nightmares, which, oddly, was walking with a slow and regular pace, his head lowered and his sharp jaws slightly opened.

The Boogeyman was riding it side-saddle, his legs elegantly adhering to the side of the demon, his left palm dropped in his lap, his right one resting on the withers in order to easily keep his balance with the slightly swaying gait of the beast; relaxed he arched his back, lasciviously exposing his jugular and his plunging and weakly biting his lower lip, then he bowed his head in a thoughtful attitude.

His frowned forehead and his brooding gaze, however, were all a sham: his black and golden irises which seemed so focused were actually lost in the ethereal and fickle mane of the animal, and no relevant thoughts were crossing the mind of man.

In the nights preceding that Pitch had worked tirelessly, visiting tens and tens houses in the lead of a small squad of his dark army, small enough in order not to be noticed and to avoid drawing the attention and the wrath of the Guardians, but sufficiently powerful to crush every single pathetic child who he had caught peacefully sleeping in his own bedroom. Oh, what a great feeling of power it had given him terrorizing all those brats, animating their foolish dreams with underworld creatures, ready to grab them and bring them into the abyss, hearing them desperately screaming in their sleep! And every single tear that these, inconsolable, had shed from the arms of their parents, quickly rushed over, had been a very personal victory, a balm for his temporary weakness, a scented oil that had been poured on his body, restoring him. Hour after hour he had looked for new ones, drops of terror from his victims who had filled him slowly, giving him back the ancient power he had never really lost, and yet, the more he had obtained, the more he found himself more avid.

It had taken him three days to guess why, three days of big game, in which he was nourished by fear almost to the point to feel sick: that was not what he needed. Or rather, not _only_ that: the anguished cries had actually made him more powerful and fearsome, but they hadn't filled that little and pulsating vacuum he felt in his chest, under his sternum.

It was precisely to meditate on this long-standing issue that he had decided to take a break, in order to patiently solve this conundrum, to all appearances insoluble: a break completely unsuccessful till then. The more he had thought about the solution and the more he had wandered off it, increasing his anger and frustration against a problem that was gradually turning into a Gordian knot; in the end, after few hours of deep concentration, he threw a temper tantrum, renouncing to get to the bottom of the question and giving his horse the reins, which, instead of grabbing the chance, had thoughtfully driven in a quiet walk.

In those memories Pitch sighed softly and he leaned more firmly on the withers of the Nightmare, stretching out his neck in order to see a little better the mane which had captured him. With languid abandonment he let himself be enchanted by that wild hair, following with his eyes the endless and ever-changing swirls it created, animated by an otherworldly wind that only it could catch; bewitched he drowned in those dark coils, until he saw every bright gleam be sucked into them, until he felt completely surrounded by that evanescent sand, in a soft, wrapping touch that seemed to remember him other caresses, icy to the touch, but hot to the soul.

Inhaling deeply he dove himself in that vision, letting his head slowly slid up to turn his face to the starry sky, but the idyll immediately came to an end. A strong and flashy light roughly hurt his pupils, forcing them to shrink until they become small like pin point to protect themselves from glare, and, although blinded, the man was able, narrowing his eyes, to identify the source of so much bother: the Moon.

Oh, right, the magnificent, beautiful full Moon, so white, so bright in its clear light, so romantic, so damned useless! How many, how many times had he appealed to it, waiting for answers which had never arrived? How many times had he seen it watching him with indifference in his dark work, always asking why, and always and only receiving silence in return? How much had he felt himself stabbed in the back when he had witnessed the birth of the Guardians and the formalization of their rank? What a miserable impotence had he felt when he had seen, in few weeks, the almost complete destruction of his reign of terror, built on decades of hard work? And in this moment, what was the silly Moon doing? It dared to show itself to him, the Lord of Nightmares, with so much insolence and carelessness, dominating the sky as a symbol of perpetual hope of good? No...no, he would have never suffered again because of it, ever again! He would have destroyed the Guardians, one by one, conquered the Earth piece by piece, child by child, to start a new obscure era which would have outshone the Dark Ages. Then, not content with this, he would have looked up at it and, with a laugh, he would have ordered his Pureblood Nightmares to tear it to pieces and drag to his feet a pleading Man in the Moon: he would have let him praying and begging, shivering in front his terrible and magnificent figure, and, at the end of his heart rending invocation, he would have disintegrated him, then walked on his ashes, evil and indifferent, as his silent enemy had been against him.

Overwhelmed by wrath Pitch bared his sharp teeth and growled in the direction of the hated Moon, immediately lowering his gaze in order not to be hurt any longer by its brightness, and then, closing his eyes to make the shining spots imprinted on his retina fade away, he tried to calm down.

Revenge, yes, sweet and vicious revenge, this and only this the Moon would have received from him, this and only this would have appeased the hatred he had against him, and repaid years of silent oppression. He just had to wait a while to complete his plans, to fortify more, to increase his army, not just with thousands and thousands of Nightmares, but also with a special weapon: the pretty, little Jack, so rebellious and independent at all appearances, and yet so easy to manipulate.

He could already imagine him: in a few weeks time and the boy would have completely lost his mind, at first driven, prey of pure terror, in a chaotic destruction, then, finally subdued and voided of any will, in shrewd attacks. He and his icy staff would have been invincible together with the frightening power of the Boogeyman, nothing and nobody would have been able to stop them and, undoubtedly, for Pitch, the most satisfying revenge would have been showing to the Man in the Moon his beautiful and obscure work: Frost, the youngest and yet most promising Guardian, his most innocent and beautiful creature, enmeshed, corrupt to the marrow, kneeling obediently at the feet of the Lord of Nightmares, deaf to any call that was not his order, indifferent to any request that was not his wish.

This was definitely a sublime idea, the icing on the poisoned cake, the deadly flower on the coffin ready to receive the ashes of the crushed enemy! He would have made Jack his personal assassin of the pathetic bits of happiness left in the world, his whip to punish the rebels, his favourite pet for the tedious hours of the daytime: it would have made him his, in every sense. Along with him he would have built a magnificent throne of ice and darkness, to celebrate the victory, where his little snowflake, irremediably soiled, would always have stopped obediently, curled up against it, his head resting on the seat in a patient wait. Pitch, on every dawn, would have gone into his lair, proud of the glorious hunt just finished, ready to receive his deserved reward: it would have looked at him, at first from a distance, barely able to glimpse him; then he would have slowly approached him, catching with growing lust every new detail: his clothes, darkened by black sand that he would have inevitably dirtied them, his skinny limbs, made thin by the fierce battles, his silky skin, even whiter than usual for the prolonged stay in the dark, and every tiny detail of his beauty, as corrupted as undeniable; finally, walking stealthily, he would have reached him, bending over him and slightly stroking his dishevelled hair, and Jack would have requited him, raising to him his clear eyes, his irises so violently blue they seemed two sapphires, so inexplicably deep he could have drown in them forever. Oh, those eyes, those eyes so beautiful they couldn't be described with any befitting adjective...those, those should have been the only untouched part of Frost. He would have never let the curse of darkness infect them, opacifying them like a faded veil, making them yellow and possessed like the orbits of the demonic nightmares he ruled: he would have kept them pure forever, and they would have been the only bright fragments in a world of grey and black, his two crystal springs which he would never get tired of diving into.

A whimsical buck of his mount's back brought abruptly Pitch back to reality, cutting the train of thoughts in which he had gradually lost himself. Annoyed, the man opened his eyes and was surprised to see the evil beast putting his hooves down and stubbornly stopping, snorting and pawing nervously at the fresh snow with a leg.

More and more puzzled to see such a creature behaving like an ordinary horse the Boogeyman looked around and noticed, about twenty yards away, a very interesting object, carefully leaned against a small tool shed: a long staff, finely decorated with laces of frost and curved at the tip. It was impossible to get confused, unthinkable not to immediately intuit his owner.

Taking a look around the Boogeyman soon spotted a blue hoodie, cheerfully standing out against the white wall of a house, and he wickedly grinned. Agile and elegant he dismounted from the demon, awarding it with a languid caress under his tapering muzzle to have cleverly brought him to a prey so tempting, to an amusement so special; with a snap of his fingers he made the Nightmare dissolve and, forgetting the little empty in his chest that had tormented him so much, he walked solemnly and stealthily.

 

 

In few minutes Pitch covered the distance between him and Jack, reaching him from behind, unnoticed, and surprising him rummaging in a wooden chest, placed against the daubed wall of the house; with a sluggish movement of his arm he enlarged the shadow of a pillar, on the right of his victim, and, as soon as the boy turned his head, suspiciously, he timely materialized on his left and he whispered in his ear: «Good evening, Jack».

In a flash Frost jumped away, scared, adhering with his back against the column beside him and holding his breath, but, when his eyes met Pitch's ones, he exhaled, relieved, and, trying to keep a voice's volume low, albeit upset, he said: «Oh, Pitch, it's you! Damn, are you crazy? You scared me to death!».

The man gave out a vibrant laugh, his sharp teeth bared in a wicked and amused expression, and he answered: «I know: it's the thing I do best».

In response the boy chuckled softly and incomprehensibly, turning his head on one side in order not to be noticed and manifestly trying to remain serious; at that sight Pitch frowned, puzzled, but he decided to continue the conversation, ignoring the behaviour of his interlocutor.

«You know, Jack, it's my job, the reason and the purpose why I exist: it is obvious that I'm able to do it so well. And yours, instead? I thought your job was to bring ice and chaos everywhere, annoying humans, not stealing from them. Since when are you in the habit of walking around at night like a thief, prying into things which don't rest with you?».

Hearing that question Jack snorted, irritated, and burst out: «It is not my habit to “walking around at night like a thief “, Pitch. I was forced to this by someone...».

«Oh, really?» the man interrupted him.

«...Yes, _someone_ who thought it should have been right to tear my laces apart» concluded the boy, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow in disappointment, but not looking into his eyes.

At this statement the Boogeyman bit maliciously his lip and he mocked him: «Oh, Jack, Jack, I didn't think you were so vain: since when do you care so much about appearance?».

In a flash Frost's cheeks reddened with embarrassment and anger and he stammered: «What, how...? Oh, come on, damn you, I'm not vain, and I wasn't wearing my laces in order to be prettier! I need them! Can you imagine how bad is to ride the wind without them? I feel the icy gusts going up to mid-thigh, freezing me to the bones».

Very confused the man slightly bowed his head, tacking a doubtful expression: that explained the words Jack had uttered immediately before leaving his room, but...

«I...I did not know you could feel the cold... I mean, you're the spirit of the ice, how could that be possible?» he couldn't keep himself from asking.

«Oh, Pitch, it has nothing to do with: I feel the cold like everyone else, maybe a little less, because I'm used to it, but I suffer, too. It makes no difference I can control it: after all, if you think well, you can control the Nightmares, but you're not immune to fear».

Instinctively Pitch burst into a cold laugher, saying: «Don't be silly, Jack, I _am_ fear».

His interlocutor simply addressed him a sincere smile, again with that damn mature attitude he had had the last time they had met, so the Boogeyman quickly changed the subject: «Rather, you want me to believe that in three long days you could not even find a lace? Are you loosing sheen, Jack? Or maybe, among the thousand ones you put your hands on, didn't you liked any?».

The boy chuckled, amused by the provocation, and slowly approaching him he said: «No, Pitch, I'm not vain like you. Unfortunately being a Guardian is not always desirable: of course you feel strong, kids believe in you and you can enjoy their happy exclamations when you make them a special surprise, but you're visible. I set foot on a street or in a park, and immediately I hear children rushing to see "that weird guy with the staff, who dares to walk barefoot in the snow”. I couldn't search for the laces during the daytime, and during night there's nothing I can find. After all, I'm not Santa Claus or Baby Tooth: a closed door stops me, and I have to settle for rummage in garden's tool sheds».

Once he arrived in front of Pitch, as if to confirm what he had just told, Jack sighed wearily and turned to look at the contents of the chest.

Without thinking the man touched the boy's head, intertwining his fingers in that messy hair, but after few seconds he shook himself and he counterbalanced: «Oh, poor little Jack...».

Huffy Frost blurted out: «Do not tease me, Pitch!».

Despite his annoyed voice the boy didn't dodge his caress, and Pitch immediately took advantage of his momentary weakness kneeling behind him; seeing him relaxing he put his left arm around his shoulders and he placed his right palm on his side, then, keeping cruelly serious in his mockery, he whispered: «Oh, no, Jack, trust me: you do not know how sorry I am».

Frost, however, didn't take up the challenge, he even seemed not to notice it: he stroke the forearm that held him with fingers light as a feather and, almost unconsciously, he slightly bowed his head, exposing the jugular.

The man wasn't waiting for nothing but that: the fatal attraction he felt toward that snowy neck was so strong, his call so compelling to make unnecessary any more explicit allure. While his heart was wildly beating he prudently put his lips under the boy's ear, pressing slightly, but as soon as he felt him relaxing and closing his eyes he couldn't stop himself.

Half-closing his eyelids in turn he literally covered him with soft kisses, following the sinew to the collarbone and going back to that little sensitive spot below the ear lobe, then he licked with the tip of his tongue that silky skin, capturing it gently with his teeth and leaving a passionate red mark on it. Breathing that fresh and tempting fragrance, which was already loaded with a spicy scent, he prepared himself to go on, but he felt Jack wriggling by him and escaping from his arms.

Surprised by the gesture he stood for a moment, motionless, but, before he could think about it, even before he could realize the situation, he felt two bony fists grabbing him by the collar and a cold mouth adhering to his own, in an impatient contact which wasn't chaste at all.

Dumbfounded, at first he wasn't able to react, letting the other alluring him with his impetuous desire, his eyes wide opened with astonishment: he would have never expected such an audacity, an initiative taken so sudden, but, remembering how passionately Frost had scratched his back few days before, he shook himself, perfidiously smiling at the idea that his little snowflake could be so ardent and repeating himself that all this lust would have played in his hands, turning into a cruel weapon of revenge.

Vehemently he redressed the balance, taking possession of his lips and taming his curious tongue, and he rejoiced when he felt him meekly adapting to, lying down under his will; provocative he tormented him with light bites, then lightly touching his palate to soothe the pain, and he wasn't surprised when he felt him loosening his fists and starting to caress him.

Exultant he let Frost touching him with his fingertips as soft as velvet, which hesitantly followed his neck and then the chest along the sternum, sending him hot chills. Not content with his submissiveness he wanted to confirm in an even more explicit way who dominate and, grabbing him by his tight hips, he roughly pushed him against the wooden case, advancing with a knee and firmly adhering to his pelvis: and Jack, in answer, let him overwhelm without complaining, only clinging more strongly to him in order not to fall and finally letting out a soft moan, stifled with too little conviction.

Oh, what an enormous pleasure was, for Pitch, to hear it! It had taken so little to enmesh him, just some caress and a kiss on that special spot to make him give up! That sigh he had let out would have been just one among the many that would have follow, only the first small crack that the Boogeyman in person would have personally expanded, forcing it to turn it into an incurable gash from which he would have spilled every drop of will and in which he would have poured fear, cruelty and awe in their purest form, distilled into a single powerful elixir that would have reshaped the mind of Frost, transforming him into a deadly weapon under his control. He had to, without any hesitation, take advantage of these moments of weakness, when, with no logical explanation, the independent and rebellious boy turned himself into a submissive and slave to senses lover, careless to appear so eager, forgetful of decency in his indulge himself in every intimate touch. He had to tempt him, make him follow him and drag him into the abyss: he had to do him his at all costs.

Naughtily he bit his tongue, stealing from him a gasp, and he began to climb the jaw line to reach his earlobe and torture it, but he felt him unexpectedly escaping from him for the second time and, then, immediately, clinging to his back with his thin fingers. Opening his eyes to understand what could have happened he discovered him with his face turned to one side, his cheeks flushed with excitement and embarrassment as he tried to hold back a giggle; looking down he saw his feet planted on the ground in search of a precarious balance, and he concluded that Jack must have tried to lean against the chest, completely forgetting it was open.

As a response to his unspoken question the boy cleared his throat, trying to look around in order not to blush more and biting his lip with his white teeth, and then he exclaimed: «Oh, yes! The chest... the chest, sure, maybe, uh, maybe it's better if I close it...».

Pitch didn't let out a breath, standing motionless, but, when Jack raised his eyes to check if he had heard him, he pierced with his mesmeric irises, turning his mouth into a smile full of malice and staring him with an expression so full of desire to make him wince. He slowly slid his pupils along his thin figure, undressing him with his eyes, giving the impression of being so avid to even want to tear the flesh from his bones, and then, as a coup de grace, he addressed him a liquid look, moving back just a little, to let him stand more comfortably, waiting silent and eager as a panther before its deadly attack.

Jack's breath became more hurried and irregular, and without realizing he half opened his mouth, in search of fresh air; after a last deep breath, however, he shook his head to pull himself together and he turned, in order to close the chest.

He could have never done a worse thing... or a better one, depending on the point of view: in fact he didn't only had his back on his interlocutor, exposing himself defenceless at his mercy, but, in stretching his arms to grab the lid, he uncovered, for the third time in his meetings with the man, a thin inch of skin on his waist, between the raised sweatshirt and his trousers.

For the Boogeyman those back dimples he could see for the first time, although he had previously drawn them umpteenth time with the tip of his fingers, were the unmistakable signal of his surrender: without hesitation or forewarning he slipped his open palms slipped under the hoodie, wrapping his chest in a long stroke from the flat stomach up to the protruding collarbones, and he leaned his forehead on his left shoulder.

The boy let out a sensual sigh and he stiffened, trying with all his might not to drop the lid; with a sadistic smile Pitch caught his earlobe with his teeth, tormenting him until his wrist started to shake, and only when he saw the partner be near to give up he came to his aid, grabbing in his place the cover with his left hand and putting it down without making a noise.

Finally free from that useless load Frost exhaled heavily, eagerly arching his back to make it adhere to the man's chest and rubbing his cheek against his neck; then, with the care of a lover, he put his right forearm on his, lying under his sweatshirt, and, turning his face, he left a soft kiss on Pitch's cheekbone.

That gesture touched the man: his little snowflake could be really sweet. Sweet as he, the Lord of Nightmares, could be cruel.

Violently the Boogeyman tightened the hug, clutching the other in his arms, regardlessly sinking his short nails of his right hand in that skin tensed among the ribs and his fingers into the soft flesh of his side, and when he saw the boy throwing his head back with a gasp he bit his jugular. He could detach from it: Jack, with a moan, had raised his arms, clinging to his neck and forcing him to lean even more on that irresistible vein, until he felt him sucking and biting more passionately, and Pitch hadn't to be asked twice, continuing until he made a purple hickey, which overlapped almost perfectly with a faded sign already present, a remnant of their previous meeting.

With nonchalance he evoked the magic sand and, in silky tentacles, he made it curiously climb the legs of his partner, directly touching the flesh under his trousers and reaching, as the boy had told him, the first part of the thighs. Lasciviously licking the back of his ear he lightly scratched his chest, while his left hand went down from the waist to the protruding bone of his pelvis: with unbearable slowness he followed the hem of his trousers, making him hold his breath for the wait, then he clasped the index into the thin laces and he untied them, loosening the tight fabric on his hard cock.

Frost sighed in relief, but, when he felt him slip under the cloth, he stopped him, trembling, grabbing him by the wrist and causing him to lose control on the black swirls he had called. Trying to pull himself together with deep breaths, he excused himself with a voice overwhelmed by pleasure: «Ah, Pitch, wait... n-not... not here, someone might see us...».

Anger. Anger in its purest form. This was the only sensation the man felt when he heard those words. Oh, his little snowflake was worried that someone might have seen them, sure, but it wasn't necessary to be so anxious, oh, no: nobody would have seen them, because the Boogeyman was invisible to the mortals' eyes. Nobody believed in him, no one could watch his figure and, if they had ever been discovered by a child next to the chest, they could have only seen Jack, Jack the Guardian, the little ice spirit beloved by all the world, and next to him... nothing. _Absolutely nothing_. The child would have looked him standing next to the house alone, blushing and moaning without any possible reason, rubbing himself against the wind, shaking like an animal in heat for a lover who didn't exist!

With cruel violence Pitch sank his teeth into his neck and clutched his silky cock through his trousers, stealing him a high moan of pain mixed with pleasure and forcing him to lean against the chest in order not to fall. Setting aside every concern he grabbed him by his left arm and he made him turn sharply, ravenously rushing at his mouth and raising his hoodie and shirt to the collarbones, immediately going down to torment his chest with his sharp incisors; holding his rolled up clothes with the right hand he slid the left one along his side, methodically scratching it until he reached his trousers and lowering them down a little with a yank.

Hearing the Jack groaning and holding spasmodically the lid against which he was leaning, he licked his abdominals just hinted, proceeding downward until he languidly rubbed his cheek against his turgid cock just hard; Frost, in response, immediately burst into a long, hot sigh, more like an explicit request that an expression of pleasure, and he instinctively pushed a little his pelvis against him, trying to deepen the contact.

Perfidious Pitch denied it to him, dodging him until he docilely leaned against the chest again, waiting, with an impatient groan, the partner to lead him.

Regained the situation in his hand the man moved back to his partner, tickling him with his nose just below his navel, licking him with eager along that thin and soft hollow between the lower belly and the thigh, tasting all the way that spicy skin, heated up until it burnt by his expert attentions. The more he continued and the more the boy lost himself in pleasure, biting his swollen lips and bowing his head, and the more the boy lost himself in pleasure, the more the Boogeyman sank in that gorgeous body which he couldn't keep himself from courting, from contemplating with increasing lust and adoration: that fragrant skin, that flesh so soft and warm, that erection so needy to be satisfied by a touch more intimate than the casual stroking of his cheekbone, everything in Jack was earnestly begging him, inviting him to a wonderful journey of no return. A call which the man couldn't resist to.

Inhaling deeply that intoxicating fragrance, that scent of sex and snow perfectly mixed together, Pitch half closed his eyelids, seeing only a blurred hyaline halo instead of the stomach of the boy, and, almost without realizing the situation, he opened his mouth and took his turgid cock in, eagerly accepting it deep in his throat.

Immediately the boy arched his back like a wild horse, bursting into a loud cry of pleasure, so sensual that the Boogeyman couldn't help but moan in response, desperately clinging to his hips to send him the chills which were shaking him. With a shove he forced him to sit on the edge of the chest, touching that organ of pure velvet with his lips; hindered by his knees he lowered with a single pull his trousers and underwear, rolling them up in an untidy heap around his ankles and opening his legs.

Settling more comfortably he could finally start to suck more decisively, while massaging with open palms Frost's thighs, following the most sensitive nerves of the inner part and conveying all the pleasure towards the groin. In a short time the boy, who was, by then, panting conspicuously, had to lean against the wall, in order to keep his balance, too shaken by shivers to stand on his own, and when he felt the man's sharp teeth of man lightly scraping his cock along his length he let out a moan and he brought his left to the back of his neck, twisting his finger of alabaster into his hair as black as the nights of new moon and silently asking for more.

Entranced the Boogeyman satisfied him, caressing his erection with his palate, from the base to the tip, from the tip to the base, and then again, in an endless dance, letting his bony hand press more and more demanding on his head but not allowing it to dictate the pace, which he varied capriciously to prolong the pleasure. Hesitant he slipped his right hand under his hoodie, which had fallen down, and he reached his chest, resting over his heart to feel his crazy beat, and he rejoiced to hear it throb in rhythm with his own.

By then there was nothing else but them two, no Guardian, no Nightmare, no child to protect or frighten, no Man in the Moon, only them, Jack and Pitch, indissolubly united in that sensual embrace; for a moment the man remembered he had plans about his future, plans he wanted and had to bring to an end and, at that time, he seemed to have partially forgotten, but, thinking about it just a little, he recollected that everything he was doing was contrived to ensnare Frost, to corrupt him and draw him over, and the more he showed himself involved, the more he would have easily win, so it was better if he continued and not thought too much. Not that he was actually able to think: those reasonings had barely touched his mind for few seconds, in a hit and run that was more the result of an unconditional reflex than a real need to meditate on what he was doing.

Dismissed also that last ordinary question, the Boogeyman resumed his work with lusty vigour, smiling at every jolt of the boy, feeling his essence and nothing except for it, not the icy snow piled around his calves, not the hard stone step on which his knees were leaned, not the coarse chest against which he occasionally hit his Adam's apple because of his fervour. He felt completely surrounded by the partner and unable to break away: his thighs opened even widener than before indecently invited him to take advantage of him, taking him in a soft, enveloping embrace, his heart wildly beating urged him not to stop, his moans higher and higher saturate the air, heating it up, his hand pressed on his neck more and more demanding, yet caring. Raptured he continued, taking his erection deeply in his throat, entranced by the feeling of suffocation it gave him, oblivious to breathe, wanting only to stroke it forever.

Suddenly he felt Jack holding his breath and try to push him away by pulling his raven-black locks, and he realized the boy had reached the limit: deliberately ignoring his tugs he tightened his lips on his cock, languidly licking it one last time and causing him an orgasm. This one was incredibly intense: the boy sharply arched his bag, opening his legs and exposing all the tensed sinews, frantically clutching the man's hair with his left hand and the solid wood with the right one, and he came with an extraordinarily sensual moan, so hot and so high to shake the partner to his bones.

The man held him by the hips, following through his thrust, and he accepted with a vibrant sigh the semen so desired which was poured into his mouth; closing his blurred eyes he made it flow on his tongue, tasting it to the hilt: he found him hot, spicy as he had imagined, but unexpectedly sweet and with an impossible hint of fresh, a pure distillation of Frost, his most concentrated and uninhibited essence.

Trembling Pitch slightly pulled himself back, exposing the boy's groin and resting his cheek on his left soft thigh, his lips half opened in attempt to breath, his arms somehow stuck behind the other's pelvis in order not to fall on the ground. He felt completely exhausted: laying against the chest he couldn't help but gasp, his back shaken by continuous shivers, his groin almost mangled by the cruel fabric of his tight trousers, tensed between his legs obscenely wide open. It could have taken so little, a light caress to soothe that pulsating need and reach the limit, but he didn't allow himself it: he preferred to stay motionless, enjoying that pleasant pain, that suffering even more complete than the satisfaction, which, albeit suspended, made him feel perfectly accomplished.

After a while he forced himself to stand up, leaning against the plastered wall, in order not to fall, when he saw black for few seconds; patiently waiting to recover he finally managed to clear his eyes and glance down, and, outright, he moaned. Jack was a pure show of lust: sprawlingly abandoned against the wall, he had not returned to his senses yet and he unwittingly showed his flushed face, his eyelids half closed which partially hid the liquid and dreamy irises, his swollen lips opened and reddened by few blood beads which had dripped from a bite too deep, his arms weakly outstretched in an unspoken request for hug, his flat stomach relaxed, his tights wide open... oh, yes, those magnificent thighs on which Pitch would have immediately throw himself. Again, again his body was violently screaming to be soiled as the snow on the roadside, still pure despite all it had passed, still avid despite everything it had already received. The man could almost hear it insistently whispering: «Take me, again, touch me, longer, do to me what you want, another time...”; with a sob, however, the Boogeyman stopped himself and shook his head to pull himself together: he would have never be satisfied with the boy, but it was not the right moment.

With the care of a lover he closed his legs, pulling up his trousers as far as he managed to, in order to make him not get cold, and he hesitantly bent over him to kiss him, but he saw with amazement Jack dodging him, turning his face to the right in a gesture which seemed more instinctive gesture than pondered, considered how his gaze was empty.

Instantly the man flared up, filled with rage for the refusal: how, how did that ungrateful boy dare to deny him what he wanted, how could he even think to escape from him after he had given himself so languidly and received so much? No, he would have never tolerated such behaviour, he would have never let him to lay down the law, deciding in his own what to do!

Forgetful of every kindness he grabbed him by the neck, dragging him to the edge of the chest and forcing him to open his mouth in search of oxygen; rapid he violate his bloody lips with his tongue, stealing from him the metallic serum and giving him the fruit of his pleasure, trying to reach every spot of his soft palate, to make sure it was filled with that incestuous flavour and, so, with the shame, inevitably thinking: "Taste it, Jack, taste it and try the flavour of perdition, let it pour in your mouth and deeply in your throat, until it will suffocate you!».

Frost immediately surrendered, moaning into that violent kiss and letting him dominate, participating weakly and struggling to breathe.

Sure he had tortured him enough Pitch broke the contact, staring at him with a wicked grin and noting with satisfaction a tear escaping from his right eye, apparently a first sign of defeat, but, as soon as he lowered a little his irises on his face to look at his cut lips, he saw that beautiful smile, mature, inexplicably, terribly moving. Again, again that happy expression after moments of tyranny, again that unwarranted joy.

Hiding his bewilderment behind a gaze full of cruelty, lust and obscene promises the Boogeyman looked at him one last time and, enigmatic, he whispered: «Good luck, Jack...».

Then he dissolved in a solid fog of magic sand, lingering a little in front of Jack, giving him one last, languid caress to his tortured neck before disappearing in a violent stream in the dark sky, leaving him for the third time.

 

 

Jack watched the shadow of Pitch disappearing in the sky, and, having, by then, lost the only support that had kept him in balance, he felt himself slipping down: with a leap he jumped off the chest, hastily pulling up his pants, but he stumbled in his own feet and fell awkwardly on the ground.

Too exhausted to do anything he curled up in the snow, lying on his side, and took a deep breath to recover. He could still feel the presence of the Boogeyman beside him, his expert hands stroking him, his velvet mouth languidly tormenting him everywhere: on the lips, on the neck, on the chest chest, on the stomach, around the aroused cock, and then on the lips, again, its flavour mixed with his own. He had dodged that last kiss in order not to contaminate it with his blood, fearing that the man could have been bothered by it, but the fire with which he had grabbed him had removed all doubt, so he had allowed himself that taste so special. Trying the flavour of his own semen had been strange, maybe a little embarrassing at first, but definitely exciting, so much he had shed a tear of pleasure, and he had sighed disappointed when the contact had been interrupted.

«I wonder how Pitch tastes» he found himself wondering thoughtfully.

Immediately he hid his face in his hands, stifling a giggle and blushing to the ears for having thought something so racy, but without denying with hypocrisy he would have liked to taste it.

Once appeased the excess of hilarity he stood up, shaking off the snow from his clothes and accurately tying his trousers; with short running he retrieved the staff, which he had left leaned against a tool shed, in order not to have it in the way of his research. The research, in fact: he hadn't found the laces yet.

With a snort he started to walk, briefly examining some unattended depot, showing little effort. Exasperated by the failure and exhausted by the meeting he decided to give up and he went toward the frozen pond from which he had born as the Spirit of the ice, walking slowly and fiddling with the staff.

When he was near to his destination he saw something in front of him, a few steps from the gate of the park: long and thin, it seemed to be a worm or a snake, but it wasn't certainly possible, considered it was winter. Curious he ran to check out, and, astonished, he found a string: about a yard long and made with soft suede, it had probably been left by some careless child who had lost it from his boots.

Without wasting time he hurried to catch it and put it around his right calf, determined not to loose such a lucky opportunity, then he stood up and started to walk again, satisfied.

After passing the entrance to the park he went to the banks of the iced pond, to contemplate its brilliant surface, but something shiny hidden in the reeds caught his attention. Pushing them aside he found a beige silk ribbon, similar to the ones the girls uses to put in their hair, wrapped like a little crown around their head and skilfully tangled in long braids.

Rejoicing he came out of the reeds, he knelt down and began to tie the lace around his left ankle, and the smile that had brightened up his face was not caused by the apparent, unbelievable luck he had, but for those few, fine grains of black sand which he had found trapped in the fabric.

 

 

 

 

Here you can find two drawing my dear friend made for me ^^ :

  
[ http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/169/3/0/1011208_10200240576361187_1231218900_n_by_bennucciacartuccia-d69mcgo.jpg ](http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/169/3/0/1011208_10200240576361187_1231218900_n_by_bennucciacartuccia-d69mcgo.jpg)

 

<http://fc00.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/169/7/1/1000815_10200240574281135_1315299534_n_by_bennucciacartuccia-d69mc4s.jpg>

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be published the next week ^^ I've already translated it, but the girl who revises my translation could be busy, so probably I'll publish it on Saturday

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 8**

 

 

 

Finally, after the usual impatient waiting, Christmas Eve had come, to the delight of all the children, and of the Guardians, of course. How could they ever not rejoice for the coming of a day so happy, which lit up the heart of every child? In fact, in order to commemorate that event, they all gathered to celebrate: Jack, Toothiana, Sandman and even Bunnymund had agreed to meet on the boughs of a huge oak, which looked out on a lovely snowy village in a Nordic country, and they had enthusiastically greeted Santa Claus, who had passed there riding his legendary sled full of gifts.

They had watched him descending along his first fireplace, holding their breaths when he had tripped over the wire of the Christmas tree's lights, risking to wake up the whole neighborhood, and they had sighed with relief seeing that, despite the confusion, no one seemed to have noticed anything. Cautiously Sandman had reached him, volunteering to travel with him and help him in his future and certain gaffes, in order to avoid him other poor figures; just the previous year, in Russia, he had been attacked by a protective and fierce grandmother, who, brandishing an iron teapot, had come to the defence of her grandchildren who North had clumsily bumped, and there was no need to repeat the experience. After a while the Easter Bunny had gone away, too, muttering something about the colours for the eggs he had to prepare and shivering in the cold, and Frost and the Tooth Fairy had found themselves alone.

Since Tooth had saved the boy from the bottom of the precipice in the South Pole, an unbreakable bond was born between them, a deep relationship that had given to both of them serenity and a greater understanding of the other. Jack had gone to visit her often in her golden palace, describing her the last travels he had done, delighting her little helpers with lovely decorations of frost and kindly expressing interest in the caskets' storage which grew on and on. After some meeting of set phrases he was slowly opened up, not completely and explicitly, maybe not entirely voluntarily, but he had done that: he had told her how he had felt lost and alone in knowing that he had had a life before he had become immortal, he had thanked her for her valuable help in remembering it, and he also mentioned his meeting with Pitch, during which he had been defeated. He told her that the Boogeyman had stolen him the staff by deception, cruelly crashing it and then throwing him in the cold precipice where she had found him, and Toothiana had immediately realized that something was not right. Why did Frost have a look so sad while he was speaking? Certainly not for the humiliation experienced, because, considered his temper, he had certainly felt something more like irritation and anger. Why had he never looked into her eyes during the story, preferring to sweep the horizon with his irises? Why, at times, had he seemed so elusive, superficially answering to the questions she asked him? And, above all, why had he touched so often his lips with his fingertips, closing his eyes and getting lost for few moments?

No, definitely some details weren't quite right in the story Jack told her: something had happened in that frozen wasteland, something more than just a fight. The woman had tried to find out it discreetly, but the boy had locked up like a hedgehog at any request too specific, so the fairy had finally decided to give up. After all, she certainly didn't want to morbidly pry into the private concerns of the cheerful Guardian, but simply to help him, and this could be done even without precisely knowing what was troubling him. She felt towards him a pure and total maternal affection and, when she saw him down in the dumps, she always tried to comfort him in every way, until his beautiful smile lit up again his face. Then... well, then, of course, she got lost a bit in those white and dazzling teeth: she was the Tooth Fairy for a very good reason! But it was only a matter of seconds and then she pulled herself together immediately, at least nearly always: it was certainly not her fault if those little ivory teeth insisted on staying so bright and perfect, sparkling like snow in the moonlight, bewitching her eyes with the spell of their purity... she could almost hear them calling: “Tooth... Tooth...”.

«Tooth!».

The Guardian woke up from the daydream and found on the face of the Spirit of Ice a frowned expression: probably he had called several times before he could get her attention with that last exasperated recall.

«Yes, Jack?» she said.

«Tooth, this night you left all the work to you fairies, can you not think about teeth for few hours, please?» Frost asked, apparently annoyed, but inwardly amused by the situation.

«Oh, no, I wasn't thinking about teeth» the fairy weakly justified herself, shaking her head to get rid of her dreamy expression and immediately trying to change the subject: «Rather, may you shake the snow off that branch? I can't see Santa Claus».

«Oh, sure, you weren't thinking about teeth, absolutely no, you were thinking about Easter eggs, weren't you?» Jack teased.

The boy stared at her with amused eyes, until she gave up and hearty laughed, and, laughing, too, he leaned out of the bough he was sitting on, stooping to retrieve the staff he had hung a little further down and inadvertently lifting his right sleeve.

Immediately the fairy noticed a yellowish halo on his wrist and she stared at it, puzzled: what was it? Maybe an old bruise? Did it have something to do with the cut Frost had on his lip? Of course she wouldn't have been surprised to know he had caused both of them on his own, recklessly skating on the ice.

Anyway she hadn't time to ask for an explanation about them: in few seconds the boy stood up, he hanged on a branch to stretch forward, in order to hit the snow-covered fronds which blocked the view, and, in doing so, he inevitably uncovered the abdomen, showing his right side.

Tooth opened her eyes wide, instinctively pressing her hands on her mouth to stifle a surprised cry: Jack's hyaline skin was torn by five claws, long and regular, in some points so deep that they had broken capillaries. Who could have made him such a thing? It didn't take long to her to identify the guilty part: the scratches were deep and well far-between from each other, so the great hand which had inflicted them had to be big. No human adult could see the Guardians, nor hurt them; North would have had no reason to hurt him like that and, in the past week, in which she and Frost had not met, he had been too busy in the preparation of the long-awaited feast; he was the only one.

With a trembling voice full of concern the fairy dared to ask: «Jack, did you happen to fight with Pitch recently?»

It was a matter of seconds: a moment before the boy was in precarious balance, hanging on the branch, and a moment later he fell down, landing on leaves a few feet below. Tooth quickly came to his rescue, grabbing him by the arm and bringing it back on the big bough where they had sat before.

«Jack! Are you okay? Did that hurt?» she asked anxiously, thoughtfully shacking the snow off the hood of his sweatshirt.

«Ah, yes, yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I must have slipped, you know, with all this ice...!» he justified himself.

In order to convince her he showed up a forced smile, but this time the fairy was determined not to let it go, so she returned to the charge: «Jack, did you fight with Pitch? Have you seen him during these days?».

«Oh, come on, why do you ask me such a question?» Jack talked round the subject, turning his head immediately.

«Jack, I'm sick of these turns of phrase: it is an important thing, so answer me!» said the fairy, angry.

Finally the boy gave in and answered: «Okay, okay! Yes, I met him few days ago. How do you know that?».

«You have some strange and deep scratches on the side. He made them, didn't he? He's the only one whose hands are big enough to hurt you like that».

Frost blushed and tried to produce a confused response: «Ah! You say those scratches, right? No, no, those scratches have nothing to do with, they have been an accident, yes, just ignore them, and then they are not deep, probably the light of the moon makes them look darker, yes, yes, Tooth, do not worry, it's nothing!».

While he was speaking he gesticulated profusely, showing clear signs of nervousness in his frequent intertwining his fingers and shaking his head, resulting very little convincing in his speech with no beginning and no end pronounced in a hesitant voice; in fact in the end, more than that jumble of words, it was his body to answer her, when the boy, run out of ideas, decided to keep silent and turned his face on a side to hide himself. Without realizing he had exposed the jugular, and Tooth immediately noticed a red halo on it: a point much more private, and a sign a much more intimate.

Hoping that the raised eyebrows and the smile which had spontaneously appeared on her lips looked like a benevolent rebuke rather than a realized awareness, she gently rested his palm on the boy's bony shoulder and reassured him: «Come on, Jack, don't get upset: I was just worried about you. You get into trouble so often that I struggle to keep up with you!».

Jack chuckled in response and, turning his gaze, he indicated a precise point in the sky.

«Look, Santa Claus visited all the houses in this village! Goodbye, North! Have a good travel!» he shouted.

Together they watched North going away fast, standing out against the full moon to greet them before vanishing on the horizon; after this they stayed quiet, the boy lying on the branch and staring at the stars, the fairy sitting with composure and apparently absorbed in the snowy landscape. It often happened they didn't speak, even for minutes: their friendship was so deep that they didn't need to fill every moment of their meetings with petty words.

After a while Frost stretched and stood cautiously up, saying: «I'm sorry, Tooth, but now I have to do a thing».

With a comprehensive and a bit mysterious look she replied: «Okay, don't worry. You're going to meet a special person, am I wrong?»

Seeming still lost the boy absently confessed: «Yes, I'm going to meet a special person... Hey, how do you know that?! Have you guessed that from a bump I have on the forehead or something like that?».

The fairy burst into a merry laughter, winking, she enigmatically explained: «No, it's just women's intuition, Jack».

Jack, puzzled, looked at her, clearly baffled by that statement he had certainly not understood, and he stood motionless, in order to think, until Tooth intervened.

«Come on, Jack, do not think about it: we women have many secrets absolutely incomprehensible for you boys! Go, do not waste time».

With a smile the boy pulled himself together and, clenching his staff, he threw himself off the branch, immediately evoking the icy winds of the north and shouting her: «See you soon, Tooth! I will visit you again!».

«See you soon, Jack! I'm about to collect ten billion teeth caskets: I'll search for you when I'll reach that number and we will celebrate together! Goodbye!» exclaimed the fairy.

When she saw him disappear over the horizon she rested for a while, sitting among those bushy fronds, enjoying the silence of the night and the lovely moonlight. That crazy Jack... it didn't take much to guess where he had gone. However she wasn't worried: that reckless boy had not shown fear or sadness during their conversation, but only some occasional and understandable embarrassment. It was better not to pry, and wait until everything would have been set right.

With a chuckle he looked down on the snow-covered roofs, swinging her feet: she relaxed for a moment, but then...

«Uh, I can't believe it! An incisive just thirty yards from here! And it is also his first tooth!» she said galvanized.

Immediately she rushed down from the tree to grab the trophy, sweeping away the poor Baby Tooth who was diligently doing her work, and she almost didn't slow down as she apologized to her.

 

 

Pitch was in his room, resting on the consumed bed which was the only furniture he had, lying on his side and facing the stone wall. In the end that damned day had arrived: that umpteenth, stupid, pathetic Christmas Eve! The more time passed, the more his hatred of that silly party increased: there wasn't another moment of year when the Guardians were stronger and he weaker than that. The anxious and overwhelming expectation of the children made useless even his most powerful and purest Nightmares, and he was not so foolish to waste them in a futile mass suicide, so, as always, he had stood in his lair, hidden, interrupting his eternal hunt until the children would have calmed down enough to be able to feel the chills of fear.

Trying not to get even angrier, he decided to close his eyes, joining his hands to create a thin pillow, lying his head on them and dozing off. Slowly he slipped into oblivion, emptying his mind and detaching his senses from reality, and he seemed to feel a fresh breath on his neck; smiling he curled up, but the feeling didn't fade away: in few seconds it seemed even intensified, soft, caressing his cheek, then disappeared for a moment, immediately reappearing spiteful to tickle his nose.

With an amused snort Pitch opened his eyes, curious and sleepy, and found himself staring at a sweet snow-bunny: his fur was thick and so white it shined, his ears minute and perfect, his muzzle short and made with soft lines, but the particular which struck him most was his irises. So big, so deep, so clear, so violently blue: they were his irises, those of his little snowflake.

Sighing he looked away from those liquid pools, moving on the fur in order not to be bewitched by their spell, and, suddenly, he realized that it was not normal, for a creature like that, to be in his lair.

Opening wide his eyes he leaned on his elbow and, from that higher perspective, he realized that the rabbit was not alive, but only a spirit of snow and cold air; amazed he turned and saw Jack staring at him, smiling, roosted in perfect balance on his curved staff.

Wrinkling his forehead in a perfect frown he angrily blurted out: «What the hell are you doing here?!».

«Oh, hi, Pitch! I'm very happy to see you again, too!» said the guy, joyful, blatantly ignoring his surly behaviour.

With a growl the Boogeyman evoked a fistful of dark sand and he threw it towards his interlocutor; the boy, however, elegantly jumped down from the slim support on which he had been, carelessly leaving it slamming against the wall and going to sit on the edge of the bed.

Puffing exasperated the man sank back into the blankets and, trying in vain to control his anger, he spelled: «Jack, _tell me what are you doing here_ ».

«I came to wish you a Merry Christmas, of course!» answered Frost, happy, then, curious, he continued: «Rather, it seems to me that you were not even aware that this anniversary falls today: why are you holed up here, all alone, instead of celebrating?».

Pitch allowed himself few seconds of break, during which he alternated between deep breaths and vigorous massages to his temples, then he replied: «I am "holed up here all alone" because I have absolutely nothing to celebrate in this stupid, pathetic day».

Puzzled the boy asked: «Why shouldn't you celebrate?».

Giving up to control himself the man let out a frustrated groan and, gesticulating, he shouted: «Because in this damn day I can do nothing! All the pathetic children of this world are so excited by the idea of the arrival of Santa Claus that my stronger Nightmares dissolve as soon as they cross the threshold of their bedrooms! So I am forced to stay holed up here, with nothing to do except for staring at the wall, waiting for this stupid Christmas overexcitement to pass! That's the damn reason!»

Jack stood silent a moment, thinking a little, then he suggested: «You could do something else, Pitch, at least for a time. You could go out and find something funny to do, something that makes you feel good...».

«There is nothing funnier than terrorizing a child, and nothing makes me feel good like the tears and cries of a scared infant» the man harshly interrupted him.

The boy chuckled a little, hearing that statement, and said: «Oh, come on, Pitch, don't be so gloomy and grumpy: I know what you need».

With a leap he straddled his stomach, leaning to rest his forehead on his right shoulder and trying to wrap his arms around his neck.

«Jack, what are you doing?» exclaimed the Boogeyman, astonished, instinctively trying to dodge him, but in vain.

«I'm giving you a hug, of course. Well, if you cooperated with me I would manage to do a little better» sweetly whispered Frost, adhering to his chest.

«Jack, no, go away, I don't need it, I don't want a hug» the man weakly defended himself.

Grasping his slim waist he tried to push him away, but the boy could be very stubborn when wanted to insist and he didn't let him to move him an inch.

Angry because of the defeat Pitch gritted his teeth and, with a harsh voice, he threatened him: «Jack, go away or I will pour out my wrath on you!».

«I will never leave, for any reason in the world» Jack stubbornly replied.

Shivering for the kind way in which the other tickled the jugular with the tip of his nose, the man took a moment to pull himself together, but, in the end, he definitely lost his patience and grabbed him by the short hairs on his nape. Yanking them he made him return with his back upright, following him immediately in order to enjoy his frightened expression; pulling even more those messy strands he forced him to throw back his head and he wickedly asked him: «For no reason in the world, Jack?».

In response Frost sent a resolute gaze and stubbornly replied: «No, Pitch: for no reason in the world».

With sweet care he put his arms around his neck another time, going even closer to him, to the point he felt his breath mixing with his own, then he stopped, motionless.

He didn't have to wait for long: for the Boogeyman it was almost inevitable to shorten that distance, physically insignificant but psychologically so great. Hesitantly he put his lips on his, in a light and chaste contact, and only few seconds later he decided to deepen it: pressing his left thumb on his chin he made him open his mouth, just enough to slid his tongue inside it, and he drew its twin in that dance they already knew to perfection, but they never get tired of repeating.

Slowly he relaxed his brutal grip on his hair and, soothing the pain with an absent-minded caress, he slid down the arm, finally answering to that hug so loving. However, even if he seemed lost in that tender union, he hadn't abandoned the reason yet, nor the treachery that characterized him: every sweetness was calculated, contrived to ensnare his little snowflake, and, in due course, it would have been counterbalanced by the right amount of cruelty. This time Pitch would have not been carried away by passion as the previous one: he would have been clear headed and focused, and he would have dealt a severe blow to his victim, maybe so deep it would have definitively defeat him; so, finally, Jack would have been destroyed, subjugated, reshaped, and he would have bowed down at his feet without hesitation, putting himself under his orders, jumping to his commands: he would have been irremediable his, in every sense.

With a naughty bit Pitch broke the kiss and went down to torment his irresistible neck with his teeth: he sank his canines into the turgid jugular, which he had tasted only few days before, and he immediately heard a groan in response.

“Oh, my little, silly Jack, now it takes so little to make you give in!” the man maliciously thought, continuing to torture that scented skin.

With a quick move he slid his fingers under his hoodie, taking it off in a hasty gesture and carelessly throwing it to the ground; the boy, for his part, didn't fight, nor ever tried to protest: when he had realized Pitch was stripping him he had rather meekly lifted his arms, in order to make things easy to him, and, free of that useless garment, he had immediately searched him, thoughtfully kissing his collarbones.

The Boogeyman rejoiced in seeing how passionately Frost let himself get involved in those forbidden embraces, sighing for every intimate touch, giving him languid caresses, digging his grave with his own hands: the boy had no idea the pleasure he gave him surrendering himself in that way. Seeing a body so beautiful and attractive offered to him with total abandonment, a soul so pure which soiled itself alone in perdition, a spirit so indomitable which voluntarily humiliated itself in a complete submission was absolutely priceless, and Pitch couldn't help to get excited every time it happened.

Smiling satisfied he let the partner's fingertips wander on his chest, maliciously following his neckline almost to the navel, then, with a grin, he grabbed him by the wrists, quickly reversing their positions and forcing him under himself.

He allowed himself a moment of suspension, long enough to observe a fleeting grimace of pain pass over his face for the movement so sudden and unexpected, then he immediately leaned over him, pushing his nose on his left cheek to make him turn his head and placing his lips on that point so special under his ear. He tortured it for a long time, with his tongue and teeth, regardless of the fact that he wouldn't be able in any way to leave a hickey more evident than the one which already marked him, never satisfied with the higher and higher moans than Jack let out. Diligently he continued his work, inhaling the spicy fragrance of the boy, enjoying his involuntary arching back to follow the shivers, ignoring his feeble protests for his limbs still trapped, and he did not stop until he felt a distinct swelling pushing against his abdomen.

Rubbing himself against it, eager, he lifted a little on his elbows, in order to enjoy the lost expression of Frost, but he took the initiative: with a twitch he freed both his wrists and, before the Boogeyman could react, he placed them on his chest, sliding his fingers inside the neckline and pulling away the two hems of fabric to touch his skin. Like the first time they were together in that room, Pitch let him do as he willed, allowing him to uncover his shoulder, but, before the boy could do anything, he whimsically dissolved the cloth, bringing it back neatly in its place with a derisive laugh.

Maybe he had better keep quiet, maybe he shouldn't: however Jack did not take it well at all. Piqued by the joke and the tease he hugged him tightly and, grabbing the hem of the collar, he pulled. He didn't confine himself to untie the robe, tearing the only fastening point on the waist and uncovering his stomach, by no means: he froze his cloth and opened his arms at the same time, dragging the fabric of pure darkness and tearing it to shreds.

At that gesture the man violently arched his back, trying in vain to stifle a gasp that sounded more like an invocation, suddenly pushing his pelvis against his partner's one, in a move so instinctive that it gave the impression he had not clear what he was silently asking for; he stood motionless for a moment, too shocked even to think, then, with a low moan, he collapsed. He sprawled on the chest of the boy, managing, with one last bit of awareness, to shift his weight on the right side, in order not to suffocate him, and he laid there, panting and visibly shaken by shivers.

Despite the chuckle he had given in seeing him in that condition, Frost affectionately hugged him, gently caressing his back to help him recover, and for a full minute Pitch was not able to do anything but let him cuddle him and retrieve, piece by piece, his lost mind. Jack's initiative had shocked him: the coat was completely torn, even the sleeves had not survived the fury born from the spite, and the part draped over the legs, the only one still intact, had already dissolved, too far away from the control of its creator to resist.

Those bony hands, however, had given him not only violence: their icy touch had gone through him, making his muscles contract, becoming a powerful thrill which echoed all over his body, from the soles of his feet to the tip of his hair, then passing through the nerves to his groin. In few seconds the Boogeyman had found himself so close to the orgasm he hadn't even be able to breathe: he had longed with all his will for his partner to please him, and, when the satisfaction had not come, he had collapsed, too weak to fight back, crossed by painful, yet thrilling, shivers, as a prelude to the fact that, having been denied the pleasure in that moment, later he would have received one greater than usual.

"Damn Jack" inevitably the man thought, while he slowly regularize his breath, angry because he had lost the reins of intercourse, even if only for few minutes. In that moment, however, he realized that the boy had not only, with that sensuous joke, proved to be in consent and determined to stay with him, but he had also given him a great inspiration: an idea sublime in its perfidy, perfect as a revenge, perverse as a humiliation.

Since he had already pulled himself together, he bit with a twitch the soft hollow between his neck and his left shoulder, getting a long sigh, half amused and half dreamy, in response, and, without wasting time, he went down, first along the collarbone, then following the sternum, marking with his sharp teeth every inch of his skin. Gently he lingered to torment with his tongue the soft flesh just below the ribs, letting Jack's curious finger stroke his neck and ears and sliding almost absently his hand along his right side, passing dangerously close to his groin and then along his thigh. Sweetly he tickled the back of his knee, making him shiver and stealing him a smile, then, satisfied with the ecstatic atmosphere he had created, he suddenly sank his teeth into his silky skin and, with a rude stroke, he brought his knee to the chest, forcing him with his elbow to bend the leg.

Frost widened his eyes, letting out a broken gasp and desperately clinging to his shoulders, amazed and bewildered by that gesture, but he didn't have to wait long to figure out the reason of that position: with a shake Pitch settled him better, blocking his ankle against his chest, then he impatiently untied the ribbon he wore on the calf, throwing it away in order not to tear it. Continuing to torture him with his mouth he did the same with the other leg, removing the lace and then methodically scratching him along the femoral artery, and the boy followed him, holding his breath and inhaling, more and more tensed, then moaning without restrain when he felt the cupped palm closing on his hard cock.

With a wicked smile the man withdrew his hand, bringing it together with the other to hold his thin waist, then, capturing with his teeth a little inch of skin, he began to suck it, drawing him with no hurry a purple mark and sadistically pressing his sternum against his cock, obstinately continuing to ignore it. He didn't have to wait for long: after few deep breaths Jack let out a sigh more similar a frustrated lament, sweetly passing his hand on his right cheek and gently intertwining it in his raven-black locks, immediately pulling them to ask him more.

Satisfied with the reaction the Boogeyman stuck out his tongue and, using the tip, he drew a thin wet trail, following an imaginary line from the ribs to the navel, down to the hem of his trousers, doing the same thing with his Adam's apple along his erection; maliciously grabbing with his incisors the thin lace which closed his pants he pulled up, to untie the knot, and he heard a sigh of relief coming from his partner, no longer constrained by the cruelly tight fabric.

Sliding his sharp fingers between the fabric and the skin he slowly freed him from his last clothes, caressing with the knuckles with his silky legs and definitely taking them off. Carelessly throwing them aside he enjoyed the sight of his body, finally completely naked, hyaline and perfect, shaken by shivers of excitement, submissive, indecently exposed and available to any torture: oh, how violently it was screaming to be soiled as the snow on the roadside, how lustfully those beautiful thighs asked to be opened even more than they already were, never satisfied with the forbidden caresses they had already received!

Intimidated by his partner's avid expression, Frost turned his face to one side, blushing with embarrassment and demurely trying to escape from his sight, but Pitch didn't let him do what he wanted: stretching his knees to get a firmer support he bent over him and, leaning on his left forearm, he tightened his neck in a gentle but firm grip, forcing him to look up at him. With a sob the boy gave up, offering him his irises made clear and liquid with excitement and his pupils dilated and opacified by pleasure, and the man wasted no time, piercing him with a look so full of sensual desire and promises to make him wince. Not content with that reaction, too moderate, he brushed his swollen lips with his right index, following the profile of his chin, then of his throat and sternum, going more and more down, to stroke his groin and steal him a groan.

With a satisfied grin he sent him one last malicious look, then, without the slightest warning, he plunged downward, reaching his pelvis and capturing his hard cock with his velvet mouth; Jack, overwhelmed, could not help but reward him, arching his back up to the breaking point, clawing at the threadbare sheets so violently he tore them, bursting into a cry of pleasure so languid as to shake him every nerve ending.

Trying to keep focused the man brought the boy's left thigh on his shoulder, in order to feel its silky softness rubbing against his cheek, and Frost meekly opened the other leg to give him more space. Oh, how obediently and lustily he offered himself, tempting him with that obscene lure, bewitching him with his hot sighs, intoxicating him with the fresh but spicy fragrance, trying again to draw him into a journey of no return! But this time the Boogeyman would have not given in: this time he would have retained control until the end, and the only one who would not be able to be himself again would have been his little snowflake.

The plan he had contrived was, to say the least, brilliant in its immense perfidy, an idea so perverse it made him almost shudder, a scam so perfect as to leave no possible escape route to his poor victim. He would have continued to whimsically provoke the other, maliciously arousing him, but never enough, forcing him to take action to ask for satisfaction, both with implicit signals and explicit gestures; Pitch, eager, would have pleased him, touching him in every way and in every point he knew to be special for those embraces: he would have brought him close to climax several times, lingering a little to prolong the pleasure, and when, finally, he would have felt heard the orgasm coming he would have denied it to him, dissolving in the air. Jack would have widened his eyes in amazement and frustration, stretching his arms to look for him, frantically calling his name, and, not seeing him, he would have finally fallen against the cold wall with a desperate expression, his eyes filled with tears.

But it would not have ended there, oh, no, that was definitely not enough as a humiliation! As it had happened to Pitch only few minutes before, the boy would have found himself violently excited, so much he would have suffered, and, certainly not having sufficient self-control, with a sob he would have given up. Weak and trembling, he would have stood on his knees, leaning his back against the wall and opening his thighs, and, burning with shame, he would have slid his right hand towards his groin, at first touching it lightly, then with increasing energy. Forgetting the decency he would have clung with his left hand to an iron ring on the stone wall behind him, languidly exposing himself to an invisible lover, and he would have bowed his flushed face on a side, asking for kisses which would have never arrived; panting without restraint he would have opened his legs more, firmly grasping his cock with his sharp fingers and starting to massage it vigorously, slowly taking a dreamy expression; then, sinking more and more into perdition, he would have picked up the pace, ignoring the cramps and the strain, pursuing only his selfish and obscene goal, which he would have reached with a final movement of the wrist.

That orgasm would have been sublime, absolutely devastating: it would have shaken the boy in the depths, stealing him his last strengths, making him invoke the name of Pitch before collapsing, exhausted. At that point, he, the Lord of Nightmares, after having enjoyed, hidden in the darkness, every single act of that splendid solo, hearing his call, would have appeared in front of him, putting his hands against the wall to make him feel trapped between his arms; with a sudden movement he would have clawed his forearm, bringing his right palm to his mouth, and, staring at him with an avid look, he would have savoured that pearly semen, pouring lust at every accurate lick; after having minutely cleaned it up, he would have violently kissed him, forcing him to taste for the second time his own flavour, corrupting him with that incestuous fluid, and, finally, he would have pressed with no consideration on his neck, forcing him to bow on his groin, ordering him to satisfy him.

Oh, how lustily the man craved to be satisfied by his little snowflake! He wanted to feel desired and courted, he wanted all the pleasure that those sharp fingers and those soft lips could give, he wanted everything of him! Precisely in order to restrain his morbid desire he chose not imagine the forbidden union, preferring to keep the surprise of the suffocating tightness of his mouth, and he directly skipping to the moment when Jack would have tasted the obscure sap, being pervaded and corrupted by it, and, when the boy would have finally raised his head from his groin, he would have shown him his irises, still sapphire blue, still clear, still beautiful, but with a new glare which would have lit them up: the flame of submission, the light of total obedience that would have communicated, without audible words: "Order me, master. I am yours”.

Lost in these sublime and treacherous thoughts Pitch took few seconds to get back to reality, realizing just in time that he had brought the partner almost to climax and, with a sinuous movement of the head, he moved away from his groin, causing it to let out a frustrated lament.

He stared at him with a sadistic smile, returning with his back upright in order to see better, and the way in which the impatient boy pulled on his elbows to follow him suggested him a wicked joke: he waited until the boy settled with difficulty on his trembling knees, then, when he stretched to reach him, he dissolved himself into a solid fog.

He waited few seconds, just long enough to see a genuinely incredulous expression appearing on Frost's face because of the unexpected escape, then he acted: in a hot stream he ran along his forearm, stretched to stop him, languidly twisting around his skinny chest and finally reappearing behind his back, his left arm adhering to his chest, the right one already touching his hard cock.

«Did you miss me already, my little Jack?» Pitch cruelly whispered in his ear, starting again the intimate massage.

He received no verbal answer: with a moan Jack opened his legs, arching his spine and throwing his head back, bringing with tender care the free palm of the man on his heart, to make him feel the crazy beat.

With a sigh the Boogeyman bit his hyaline neck, sucking the irresistible jugular for the umpteenth time, picking up the pace of his strokes, and he rejoiced to feel the partner clinging to his nape in a passionate and possessive gesture: by then the Guardian was completely lost, astray in a forbidden sea whose waves he could no longer be saved from, gone too far to return back.

It was a matter of a blink of an eye: Pitch felt the pulse of the boy missing a beat and, immediately, he moved his hand away from his groin, grabbing his throat and forcefully taking his breath away. It was with infinite pleasure that he felt his carotid throbbing, desperately struggling against the sharp fingers which were holding it tightly, and he almost moaned hearing the choked sob of the other, who, with an instinctive twitch, tried in vain to break free from the cruel grasp.

He firmly held Jack for few seconds more, making sure to deny him satisfaction and simultaneously bring the arousal beyond the pain threshold, then he freed him. Sadistically smiling he supported him when he fell down and he started leave soft kisses under his ear, but Frost seemed to him heavier than usual. Frowning his head, puzzled, he laid him on the grey sheets, using his feet to stretch his legs, and he accurately observed him; his tortured skin was pale and tense, his bony chest perfectly motionless, his half-closed eyes rolled back: everything, in him, spoke about an abandonment deeper that that of sleep.

With growing horror the man stared at his thin, sprawled body and, when he touched him, he panicked feeling him cold. No, no, what he was seeing couldn't be true, it was not possible: it shouldn't have gone that way, that was not what he wanted, not for his little snowflake. No, no, it was impossible, he had been careful, he was sure, he had been violent, but not brutal, even though he had been cruel he had taken care of his secret treasure, it was not possible, he had been careful!

With a sob he took that angelic face between his large hands, gently caressing it and opening his lips; he tenderly tried to call him once, then a second time, then a third one, but, finally, seeing that none of the thoughtful care was having effect, he threw off the mask of indifference which he had worn until that moment and, letting his clear eyes show all the pain he felt, he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation: «Jack, answer me!».

 

 

 

Another image by a friend!

 

<http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/169/e/a/1012314_10200240577561217_969730402_n_by_bennucciacartuccia-d69mcbe.jpg>

 


	9. Chapter 9

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 9**

 

 

«Jack, answer me!».

The boy, shaken by the desperate call, finally decided to answer with a groan, but he didn't move, too exhausted even to be able to contract a muscle.

Inwardly, however, he was laughing, hearty laughing: he had never felt such an immense joy in his entire life. His partner, the Boogeyman himself, was worried about him, lovingly taking care of his body and even invoking him with a voice broken from grief, anguished about the idea he had killed him!

Pitch had finally thrown off the mask and shown explicitly how much he cared about him. Not that he had not already done it in the past: although he had never starved him of a good deal of cruelty in their meetings, Jack hadn't missed some special, revealing signals, which he had clung to with stubborn determination, candidly confident that the truth, sooner or later, would have surfaced, rippling all those layers of painful appearance, emerging above any ostensible undeniable duty. Because, no matter how much the man could have shown off wicked pleasure in torturing him and, then, indifferent coolness in abandoning him after every embrace, Frost had never had any doubt that he cared about him. Otherwise, why on earth, after their first kiss, seeing him half unconscious, had he grabbed him in flight and gently laid him on the ground, instead of letting him slam into the ice? Why, every time, did he caress him with infinite tenderness, always soothing the sporadic scratches which he made him? Why did he court his neck with such excitement, believing not to be noticed while he inhaled his scent with an ecstatic expression? Why did he kiss him with such passion? Why, when he touched him, did he always make sure to give him the most intense pleasure? And why did he pronounce his name so often, almost at every sentence of their conversation, making it vibrate so musically in his throat, even though they were always alone and it was, therefore, unnecessary to reiterate, at every turn, who he was addressing to?

He could have gone on, counting in an endless list every little gesture that Pitch, voluntarily or not, had dedicated to him, but it would have been meaningless: the more time passed, the more the enumeration increased, enriched with sweet touches that only a tender lover could have given to him.

As if to confirm this the man, seeing his reaction, let out a sigh of relief, resting for a moment his head on his heart to pull himself together; soon, however, he stood up, passing his big palms on his cold skin and massaging it to help him recover.

When his epidermis was heated enough the boy felt his partner cover him with a thin and soft fabric, leaving a small kiss on that special point under his left ear, then intertwining his legs to his, drawing him in a warm and enveloping hug and tenderly holding him tightly, making him put his forehead on his chest.

At this gesture Jack couldn't help but smile: he had never doubted the affection that laid in the heart of the Boogeyman, but when he thought nobody was watching him he could really excel himself. With a feeble groan the boy rested in those strong and possessive arms, continuing to pretend to be unconscious, and he enjoyed the cuddles he was giving him. He noticed him slowly relaxing, hearing his breaths getting deeper and more regular, feeling his pulse slowing down, and, after about ten minutes, he was completely sure he was asleep.

Only at this point Frost dared to open his eyes and he found himself staring at the throat of Pitch, so thin and long, almost feminine in the sinuous lines of its sinews, yet undeniably masculine in the sharp corners which connected it to the shoulders; he had always adored it and he had never denied to himself the displeasure of knowing he could have caressed it so few times in their meetings: it was definitely time to remedy.

He deftly relaxed the grip around his chest, in order to move more freely, then, lifting on his right elbow, he bent over that neck, so desired, so unconsciously exposed to seem almost a lure: he gently left a soft kiss on the hollow just above the clavicle, then he slowly went up, methodically stroking every little inch of skin. Placing his left hand on his partner's heart, in order to feel the pulse which gradually increased, he followed his jugular, lightly touching it with his lips, enjoying the light moan the other, still asleep, let out, and thus he reached the ear; there the scent of his velvet skin was more intense, like the soft moss which grows in the underbrush: mysterious, wild, yet incredibly familiar to Jack. Ecstatically inhaling it he half opened his mouth and passed his tongue on that spot, rejoicing for the languid sigh Pitch let out as soon as he was touched, and he had to insist just a little to pull him out of the oblivion into which he had fallen and bring him back to reality.

Relented he watched him rubbing his cheek against the mattress, then opening his eyelids with difficulty; patiently he waited for him to wake up completely and recover and, when he saw him turning his head and looking at him, he rewarded him with the smile he had addressed him so many times: sincere, mature, happy and full of feeling.

The Boogeyman stared at him with his eyes wide open, showing entirely his iridescent irises, which, in that moment, were almost completely permeated by golden rays, and he didn't try to hide the myriad of emotions which went through him: pure joy for the rapid recovery of Frost, shame for being caught in sleep, astonishment for the cuddles he was receiving, sadness for having tortured him until he fainted.

Embarrassed and repentant the man glanced down, as if to escape from the boy while continuing to embrace him. Jack, in order to reassure him, whispered: «Pitch, about what happened before, I...».

Before he could finish Pitch put his index and middle finger on his lips to stop him, looking at him with a pained expression which said: “No, please. It was enough, for me, to believe you died: I do not need to be punished with a reprimand”.

Oh, foolish, foolish Boogeyman! He could be so cunning, and then fail on such banalities! But, indeed, that wasn't a simple matter at all and, without doubt, this was a shaky ground for him. Jack didn't want to accuse him, the words he wanted to say were not warnings, but it didn't matter: if the man didn't want to let him speak he would have communicated what he wanted to confide him in another way.

The boy gently started to kiss those sharp fingers, following them down to the knuckles and back, never averting his gaze from his; then, unexpectedly, he opened his lips and slid his tongue over his fingertips. Languid he slowly accepted them in his mouth, phalanx by phalanx, until he reached their base, pulling up with the incisors to lure him, and he began to suck with no hurry: he wanted to be sure to convey all the feelings that animated himself, he wanted to reassure him and give him pleasure, he wanted to show him that, although he was inexperienced, he was able to be as sensual as him and that he would have done his best.

Staring at him with mischievous eyes he caught his wrist with his left hand and continued his work, moving the head in a calm, sinuous rhythm, licking with lust, as if he was courting a far more intimate part than just those fingers: with every gesture he wanted to lure him, to seduce him, to erase from his mind the words "candid" and "ingenuous" associated with his name. Pitch thought he was so innocent and pure, and, in a sense, he was right: Jack was not corrupt, nor shrewd, and he didn't conceive of sex as a thing on its own. However, if only the Boogeyman had seen him, just the night before, following two boys, discovered by chance in an alley while they were kissing, only to learn all the way how two men gave pleasure to each other... at least he would have diametrically changed his mind.

Wanting something more than that simple yet not chaste contact, Frost laid on the mattress, in order to move more freely, and, no interrupting what he was already doing, he put his right palm on his partner's heart: he listened to the increased beats for few seconds, then he stroked the abs, following their soft lines to the waist, passing with a little hesitation the hem of his trousers and stopping on the groin.

Pitch, who, till then, had remained motionless, as if he had been bewitched by a spell, suddenly startled, maybe taken by surprise by such audacity, but he didn't rejected him; after few moments, indeed, he subtly put his leg aside, to leave him more space, and Jack didn't need to be asked twice. At first he just hesitantly stroked it, intrigued by the novelty and afraid not to be able to keep with it: he had never touched a man before and the last thing he wanted was to be clumsy and, therefore, incapable. After a while, however, he rejoiced to feel how that cock, just aroused, fit perfectly in his hand and promptly reacted, hardening at every movement, and he got more acquainted with it.

Feeling suffocated by the heat he kicked away the blanket the Boogeyman had kindly woven for him, but he saw the partner was still keeping his eyes half-closed, in an expression somewhere between ecstasy and suffering, and, going on with the sensual massage, he soon understood the reason: his trousers bound him cruelly, in a tight and more and more choking grasp. Frost immediately seized the top hem and pulled it down, tearing the fabric and freeing his groin from the constraint, and the partner sighed in relief, immediately making the dark cloth dissolve into a vanishing mist, as if he had waited for permission to get completely undressed.

Impatient the boy grabbed his cock, softly stroking it with his fingers along its entire length, and hearing, finally, a faint moan; in order to take courage he went on a little longer, then he took a deep breath and he decided to go further.

Staring at him with an expression full of lust he strengthened the grip on his wrist and pulled his fingers out of his mouth, sliding at a speed unbearably low the tip of his tongue in the thin gap between the index and the middle finger, in a naughty allusion; trying not to tremble he made those wet fingertips stroking himself, driving them along an imaginary line from the sternum to the stomach, swerving, at the last, and taking them on his buttock, in an embarrassed but clear request.

Immediately he threw his free arm around the neck of the man, involving him in a passionate kiss to try to hide the evident blush which reddened his cheeks, and he shuddered feeling him taking charge, dominating in that sensual dance and firmly grabbing his butt. Holding his breath the boy felt him gently sliding his fingers into the seam and start to massage the inviolate entrance, and he sighed noticing how sweetly the other treated him, making sure, as always, he could feel the most intense pleasure.

Slowly he relaxed, letting him lead and putting his left knee on his waist in order to ease his movements, but he could not help but stifled a muffled moan when he felt his index penetrating him: it was a strange feeling, annoying and painful, but he didn't try to escape from it, well aware that, if he had endured, he would have been handsomely rewarded. Slowly he became accustomed to the intrusion, getting lost in the chills it gave him and relaxing his muscles, and he began to act with less coordination; the Boogeyman, in return, wasted no time and he violated him with the medium finger, too.

At that second gesture Jack violently arched his back, moaning in pain and holding the partner's right arm with both his hands; Pitch broke the kiss, making him turn on his back and laying over him: maliciously smiling he bent over his jugular, languidly drawing it with his tongue, to reach that special spot under the ear; finally, pressing his nose on his cheek, he forced him to turn his face and he eagerly licked that little inch of skin, rubbing himself against him and starting to move his fingers inside him.

Frost shuddered, starting to gasp and shiver, involuntarily trying to escape from him and, at the same time, looking for him with desire, torn between the pain of the penetration and the pleasure of the hickey; in the end, however, it took to him less than a minute to surrender to the second one. Feebly moaning he caressed his neck and silky hair, following him in his descent along the collarbone and the sternum, alongside of which he left clear signs of bites; he gasped surprised feeling him going away from his stomach, interrupting the pleasant torture, but he didn't have to wait long to know his purposes.

Suddenly a humid and suffocating heat wrapped the boy's cock down to the base and he arched, bursting into a satisfied groan: it was only the third time that the man was using his mouth like that, and yet Jack felt already addicted to it. That soft palate against which he rubbed, that curious tongue which deftly aroused him, that avid throat he reached at every sinuous movement of the head of his partner, everything bewitched him, sending through him hot shivers and tying him on the spot, making him defenceless and subject to the other's will; and this situation, this being won and subdued by the Boogeyman, he had always liked it. He had never been able to explain the reason: maybe as opposed to his being a free spirit, maybe for the seductive skills of Pitch, maybe because he knew that the other enjoyed seeing him behaving in that way; in any case, however, the reason had not the slightest importance, especially at that time.

With a groan he spread his legs, so that his partner could settle himself more comfortably, and he firmly clawed at the threadbare sheets, worried to scratch his nape; half-closing his liquid and dreamy eyes he barely noticed the third finger, intervened to penetrate him, assuming, for a moment, a grimace in pain on his lips, but opening them few seconds later to sigh again.

By that time Jack couldn't feel anything except of his body and the two languid tortures he was subjected to, unable to choose if he wanted to push himself towards the fingers which violated him or towards the mouth which wrapped his erection; after a while he realized he was close to the orgasm, so, raking up all the strength he had, he moved: he hooked his knee in the soft hollow between the chest and the left arm of the Boogeyman, then he pulled, forcing him to move away from his groin and return with his face next to his neck.

Reaching out to him he passed his nose on his hollow cheek, slowly approaching his ear, and finally he sensually whispered: «Pitch, make me yours».

At first he thought that he had spoken too softly, because he saw no reaction; then, suddenly, he felt Pitch's fingers quickly going out from his body and firmly pressing on his left thigh to open it even more.

It was a matter of moments: just few seconds before Frost almost felt a sense of emptiness within himself for the sudden abandonment, and, few seconds later, an indescribable pain. He felt himself split in two, his eyes opened wide but blind, so astonished by the deep and ungentle penetration he couldn't even let out a lament: he did not expect such a brutal cruelty after so many cuddles.

Just when he began to think that his trust had been betrayed, and tears for the double suffering slipped out of his eyes, he was sweetly consoled: silky lips gathered those salty drops, drying his face, and gentle hands caressed him. With a sob the boy opened his irises, he saw the man tenderly smiling at him, full of desire and a little sorry of having took him in such an abrupt way, and he tried to smile back, putting together a tense grimace.

The Boogeyman moved down to kiss his neck, rubbing his palms on his abdomen and thighs, and he didn't stop until he felt all the muscles relaxing; finished that he started to stroke, using his tongue, that special spot under the ear and he gave a faint thrust with his pelvis.

The boy moaned back, arching his back in pain and pleasure, but he didn't complain, rather urging him with a hug to continue; the first moments were a pure and burning torture, which he struggled with stoic endurance not to refuse, but, fortunately, he had not to bear it for long: soon the ability of the man saved him from the torment.

With expert hands Pitch opened a little more his legs, putting them in a position more comfortable for both of them, and he grabbed with the right hand his hip, in order to follow better their movements; in reward for this Frost turned his head, giving him his defenceless throat, and the partner immediately sank his sharp teeth in that jugular which he had tasted so many times and which, however, he didn't seem to have had enough of. Biting and sucking the Boogeyman trapped him against the mattress, preventing him from escaping and slowly sliding his left hand along his chest, reaching his cock and started to stroke it, in order to distract him.

Despite the caress had been light and discreet Jack groaned loudly, clawing at the shreds of the sheets and biting his lip to try to hold himself, but it was all useless: the man was too capable and he was too inexperienced to manage not to surrender to pleasure. In few seconds the boy was shaken by an electric shiver and, with a cry half ecstatic and half frustrated, he came, wetting his abdomen with his own semen. A sob escaped from his mouth: this was not what he wanted, he wanted to satisfy the other and donate him a longer embrace, but he had just made the impression of being unable and selfish.

The Boogeyman, however, didn't seem to be of the same opinion: satisfied he passed his iridescent irises over his body, from the wet groin to the neck, staring at him with an avid look; then, bending his lips into a mischievous smile, he moved his fingertips and lightly touched again his cock.

Immediately the boy gasped, surprised: his erection was still aroused and warm chills were sent from it, exciting and intense, yet more bearable, more manageable than the first ones which had crossed his body, shocking him.

Frost had been courted, cuddled, spoiled and satisfied during the embrace, too overwhelmed to do anything but undergo: it was time for him to reciprocate and donate, too. Feeling he was recovering he threw his arms round his partner's neck, drawing his face few inches from his own, and, trying not to take his eyes away in embarrassment, he whispered with a hoarse voice: «More».

A shiver of fear went through him when he saw his topaz-coloured irises being invaded by obscure tentacles, but he didn't give up and, rather, he hugged his pelvis with his legs in order to emphasize the request.

The man stroked his cheek with his own and he mischievously murmured: «As you wish, my little Jack».

Then, without further ado, he gave a strong thrust, stopping immediately to check his reaction; in response, the boy tightened his grip around his waist, giving a thrust to ask him not to quit and persuade him, eventually, to not restrain himself, as he had thoughtfully done before, but to let himself go and take what they craved for.

Pitch didn't need to be asked twice: with a vibrating growl he grabbed him by the hips, penetrating him repeatedly and deeply, and he let out a satisfied gasp when he felt Frost's nails piercing his back, scratching it until it started to bleed.

Jack gasped, lost in that union so desired: he couldn't feel anything except for his own body and the other's one. He felt his eager sighs against his neck, his perfect dorsals under his hands, his silky skin torn by his nails and the partner's ones which clawed at his buttocks; he felt his spine arching, his solid bottom rhythmically contracting under his calves, his thin but muscular thighs supporting his ones, his flat abdomen sensually rubbing against his cock. He felt the other's one violating him, making him uncontrollably moan, trying to dig a space within him despite it wasn't necessary, because the Boogeyman already had a special place in his heart; but, above all, he felt his real essence, sweet and violent, possessive and generous, so complex and impossible, yet so clear and beautiful for Frost.

Lost in these feelings so new and completely absorbing the boy took about ten seconds to realize that the partner had returned with his back almost straight, opening his legs a little more to make him feel comfortable and penetrate him better, and that, continuing to thrust, he was looking at him with a dreamy look, adoring and avid at the same time.

Blushing with embarrassment Jack demurely tried to cover himself, but Pitch stopped him and, grabbing his wrists in a gentle but firm grip, he whispered: «No. Let me look, Jack».

Glancing down the boy surrendered to him, leaving his hands next to his own face, and without further ado the man restarted to penetrate him, again and again, making him moan and arch his spine at every sinuous movement.

Frost felt his flesh literally torn away from his bones by those fiery irises, who pierced him with such longing and lust to make him shudder, and courageously he decided to give himself to them: he turned his face on a side, offering the jugular and covering his eyes with the back of his right hand, in a mischievous “I see – I don't see” that ended up rather to emphasize than to hide; he lifted a little his chest, in order to expose it, well aware that the pants with which he frantically went up and down made it even more desirable; finally, he put his left hand on his collarbone, slowly touching it with his fingertips, going down and down, in a languid caress which wanted to replicate the hot massages of the other.

This last gesture was the coup de grace: with a sob the Boogeyman turned his head, biting his lip and closing his eyes, but, soon after, he reopened them with a feral expression. Renouncing resisting he leapt back onto him, like a panther on its prey, he rested his forearms near his chest to support himself and, with two last, deep thrusts, he came.

When he had sawn him bowing the boy had opened his thighs as much as he could and he had promptly brought his fingers to his mouth, covering it to prevent any sound from escaping. The award he received in return was priceless: a long groan, vibrant, initially so low it was almost inaudible, broke from the partner, heightening, taking shape and volume until it reached the apex acute and far beyond the limits of the obscene. By comparison, the first sensual sigh he had let out, during the recovery from the ice, had been a simple breath; this one, on the contrary, had shaken him to the marrow, echoing in his mind and making every single muscle tremble, and Jack, overwhelmed by the sublime sensation of feeling him pouring his semen inside him, marking him in the most intimate way it existed, could not help but surrender and come, too. Half opening his lips he let out a high and languid gasp, almost like a moan, wetting for the second time his stomach and tightening his legs around Pitch's waist; he stood tense for a moment, then he gave up, collapsing exhausted beneath him.

The man held out a few moments more, just enough to gently slide out of him without hurting him or make him feel a sense of loss and nostalgia, then he fell, too, managing, at the last, to divert a little and lie on the side of his chest, in order not to encumber on it and suffocate him.

They panted in unison, every one lost in his own hot and blurred world, but linked to the other by the hesitant and approximate hug they were trying to exchange: in fact, Jack had moved his arms to encircle the Boogeyman's shoulders, groping for them and finally finding them behind the black curtain of fatigue that obscured his view, and he absently started to stroke them, barely able to move his fingers.

At that touch Pitch seemed to wake up and regain enough strength to return to rest on his forearms, covering him without weighting on him, but the boy was not even able to turn his head to look at him: blind and motionless he let him do what he wanted, unable to stand or even just think in a coherent way. Suddenly he felt his breath coming closer, lightly blowing on his cheek, and the feeling was incredibly amplified: evidently the temporary softening of the other four senses had enhanced the touch. That hot breath suddenly started to move, reaching the ear and disappearing, replaced in a blink of an eye by a soft and curious tongue, which could not wait to find every nerve and steal him a gasp: an expert tongue, which, in that moment, was spoilt for choice to arouse Frost.

As soon as he felt that wet organ licking him the boy let out a low moan, wondering at the shivers which had crossed him for a contact so light, and that was a signal to his partner, the permission to do him what he wanted.

Sighing in turn the man put his lips to his neck, gently sucking the tortured skin and following the jugular; going along his collarbone he rested on his chest and captured his left nipple with his teeth, tormenting him and enjoying the loud, lusty cries of Frost; then, finally, he went further down, until he reached his wet abdomen. He hesitated only for a moment, then he eagerly began to lick, taking away his semen as if it were the best and most precious nectar in the world: at every lap Jack felt thrilled and he trembled, his opened thighs faintly scratched by the sharp fingers of the Boogeyman, and the Boogeyman himself settled between them, assisting him as a caring mother with its newborn puppy, and courting him as a languid lover, undeniably intended to drag him into perdition. For the Spirit of Frost, however, that was not perdition: it was the exact opposite.

Moaning one last time he felt the other get up and go back at his heart level and he hugged him tightly, lovingly encircling his shoulders and bringing his mouth to his. At first Pitch tried to dodge him, probably in order not to make him taste again his own flavour, but the boy refused to listen to him and, opening his lips, he passionately kissed him, stroking his palate and eagerly let his own semen slip into his throat, until the partner became sure the taste didn't bother him and took over the helm again, imposing himself and leading as always.

Short of breath they broke the kiss, panting and staring at each other, the pupils clouded by fatigue and pleasure, the look still a bit feral as a remaining of the experience they just had had, and Frost had sudden flash: foxglove. Purple foxglove. That was the scent the other emanated in this moment. He remembered that flower, composed by clusters of white bell-shaped corollas, stained in their inner part by minute dark red dots, like drops of curdled blood, and he remembered the words of his mother: "Do not ever come near to the foxglove, Jack: it's venomous, and if you touch it you get intoxicated". The woman couldn't be more right: it had been enough, for him, to touch the man to be bewitched by his beauty and the depth of his soul, to become unable to rid himself of the obsession for him and madly addicted to all his attentions.

Gently caressing his back to soothe the deep scratches that he had given him, Jack smiled and continued to look him, until he could see only those two iridescent circles, until he sank in those wonderful and impossible colours: those irises contained the sunrise in the night, the light in the shadow, the hope in despair, in an oxymoronic but perfect union of opposites which only the Boogeyman was and could be.

Surrounded by those rays of light and those dark tentacles Jack reached out his right hand up to touch the cheek of the other and, with a faint voice, but without the slightest hesitation, he whispered: «I love you».

He endured a little longer, to enjoy Pitch's genuine expression of disbelief, then he gave up, exhausted, confidently abandoning himself in his arms and fell into a deep sleep.

 

 

Syryus90 made me a fanart for this chapter ^^ click on the link to see it! Of course it's NSFW ;)

 

[http://syryus90.deviantart.com/art/Pitch-e-Jack-428945205?q=gallery%3ASyryus90%2F15249725&qo=5](http://syryus90.deviantart.com/art/Pitch-e-Jack-428945205?q=gallery%3ASyryus90%2F15249725&qo=5)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 10th chapter will be published on Monday ^^ see you soon! And feel free to leave me a comment, if you want to ^^ I'm always happy to answer to you!


	10. Chapter 10

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 10**

 

 

 

« _Jack, answer me!_ ».

The groan which came in response was, for Pitch, the sweetest sound he had ever heard: never, ever in his long existence he had been so afraid, and he had felt so alone and guilty. He sighed with relief, as if a weight equal to that of a boulder had been lifted from his chest, and he smiled: Jack, his sweet little snowflake, was still with him, he wasn't dead, he hadn't been broken between his big hands. Hearing him breathe again was the best prize, and see him slightly moving the sweetest vision: he was still there, they were still together.

This, however, didn't mean that the boy was okay: his skin was pale and cold even more than usual, and his breath hasty and not deep. Considerately the Boogeyman took care of him, massaging his trembling muscles to help him recover, and he carefully checked that his thin neck had not been hurt; then, seeing essentially unharmed, he evoked the fabric of darkness which he used to wear, giving it the shape of a soft blanket and draping it on himself and the other.

Relented he left a light kiss on that special spot, just below his ear, and he gently intertwined his own legs to his partner's ones, drawing him into a warm hug and gently tightening the grip, until he felt his forehead leaning on his left collarbone. How nice was Frost while he was sleeping... so calm and quiet in his trusting abandonment to the world of dreams, yet so rebellious in his cunning little face, the corners of his mouth bent into a mischievous smile even in that moment. The man thoughtfully wondered how it was possible that the boy could have a similar expression even while he was sleeping, but he immediately found the answer by himself: after all he was Jack, it could not be otherwise.

With a chuckle he softly rubbed his cheek against his left temple, sinking in his silky hair and winnowing them even more, then he settled him, in order to make him feel comfortable: the boy was already fairly tried, and he didn't want to tire him any further. Closing his eyes Pitch kissed those silvery strands one last time, then he laid down, torn between two choices: going away, as he had always done, leaving Frost alone, without a word or a gesture, without any explanation, in a moving and cruel waiting for a response which continued to be postponed; or, alternatively, taking courage in his hands and staying, facing the difficulties, running the risk of being refused, but with the opportunity to remedy, to make sure that the boy was intact not only in the body, but also in the spirit.

He hesitated only a moment, then he decided to stay: he had almost lost his snowflake once, and he didn't want that to happen again. He protectively hugged him better and he relaxed: if he could not look at his beautiful irises and hearing his voice, he wanted to keep company with him, at least. Not that the Boogeyman was able to dream: he didn't remember he had had any good vision; he remembered that, sometimes, he had had nightmares, but in most cases he had merely slipped into an empty oblivion with no colour or sound, a transition period almost similar to the non-existence, so that, if he hadn't had a sixth sense to understand the time, he could have never known how long he had slept.

Still confused by those memories of what had happened he dozed off, hoping since the last glimmer of consciousness that the partner could feel his presence beside himself and be, in some way comforted by it.

 

 

From the cocoon-like darkness in which he was immersed Pitch felt something disturbing him, insistently, but gently: something not readily identifiable, soft and warm, which continued to tickle the sensitive spot below his right ear. Giving up he slowly emerged from the oblivion into which he had slipped, blinking a little and slowly familiarizing with his surroundings: at first he recognized the worn mattress he used as a bed, then the blanket and the room; finally, he felt a presence near him and everything came back to his mind: he was in his lair and, before he had fallen asleep, he was lying next to Jack, holding him in his arms to comfort him.

Worried the man turned his head and he found in front of him the boy, afraid and not afraid at all, who, leaning on his right elbow, was lovingly looking at him and giving him again that inexplicably smile, so sincere and mature, so deeply happy. The Boogeyman opened wide his eyes, freezing under the crystalline gaze of the other, trying in vain to tame the myriad of feelings that went through him: joy in seeing his little snowflake had recovered so quickly, shame for being caught during sleep, sadness in knowing he had tortured him until he fainted, but, above all, wonder in its purest form. How could Frost not be afraid of him? And why, after all the pain he had suffered, he was still there with him, so considerate to cuddle him?

Too confused to be able to look at him Pitch glanced down, escaping to the boy while continuing to hold him tightly, and felt a bitter blow when he heard him speak.

«Pitch, about what happened before, I...».

The man didn't even let him finish: he quickly put his index and middle fingers on his lips, gently pressing on them with a pained expression and silently begging him not to go on. He knew he had been cruel, he knew he had overdone it, but the right punishment had arrived when Jack had collapsed in his arms, slipping faint on the mattress: it wasn't necessary to remark the torment with reprimands.

Foolishly he didn't considered the issue of reflecting more deeply on what the other wanted to tell him, considered how he had treated him since he had waken up; in any case he no longer had the time to do it, because he saw him give up and start to kiss his fingers. His light touch stroked him down to the knuckles and then back again, and before he could foresee that his fingertips were captured by his soft tongue: he saw the partner slowly taking in his velvet mouth the phalanges section by section, pulling with his incisors, accepting them almost in his throat in order to wrap them up to their base.

The Boogeyman was dumbfounded: he was convinced that Frost wanted to punish him for what he had suffered, to hurt him, to insult him and leave him, but he was still there, lying at his side, intent on courting the hand he had grabbed by the wrist; he was sure that he wanted to torture him for all the evil he had done, but, on the contrary, he was staring at him with a mischievous expression, sensually moving his head and eagerly sucking, as if he were few inches lower.

Enchanted by the show he superficially noticed the palm which settled on his heart, and he distinctly felt it only when, in its descent, it passed the hem of the trousers, leaning on the groin: he startled for such audacity, but he didn't pull him away and, indeed, he put his right leg aside to leave him more space.

Holding his breath he followed the approach of the boy: at first he touched it tentatively, as if to get used to the novelty; then he began to massage it more firmly, almost intrigued by the reaction of the cock; in the end, bravely, he hold tightly the erection with his thin fingers, repeatedly drawing its form through the fabric and becoming more and more experienced in stimulating it at every new caress.

Soon he saw Jack kicking away the blanket of darkness, but he didn't feel relieved: the greater torture was given to him by the trousers, which bandaged him in a tight and more and more choking grasp; he would have liked to take them off, but he wanted not to force the other to deepen the contact and, above all, to give him freedom of action, in order to understand his intentions and see how far he wanted to go and for what purpose.

He didn't suffered for long: as if he had read his mind Frost seized them and tore the fabric, freeing him and impatiently grabbing his cock, stealing him a first, small moan. Feeling him slightly biting him the man focused again his attention on his partner, who stared at him with a look full of lust: sighing he saw him slowly pulling out his fingers, sliding his tongue into the thin gap between the two in a naughty allusion; not resisting he let him bring his hand down, deducing that Frost would have demanded him satisfaction in turn, but he was really surprised when he felt him swerving, moving his palm on his buttock and blushing.

Before Pitch could realize the situation he felt the other clinging to the neck and draw him into a passionate kiss, as if to hide the embarrassment and stress the request, and at first he could only withstand, astonished: how... how could a creature so innocent and inexperienced know such a thing? How could he know that that spot would have given him a pleasure so special? Maybe he had underestimated him, maybe Jack was not so naive as he had always thought, and, indeed, the languid scene of few seconds before it was a clear demonstration of this.

Giving up reflecting further the man hold tightly his buttocks and passionately dominating in the kiss, playing with his curious tongue, stroking his soft palate and appropriating his lips, thin and yet as soft as two rosebuds. It didn't matter if the boy was candid and pure as he had always thought, or cunning and avid of intimate caresses, he didn't care if he wanted to use him or he really desired him, he didn't care of anything at all: whatever the partner would have demanded him he would have been satisfied. At least this time Pitch would have not denied anything to him, nor tortured him, and he would have kept himself from allowing himself any kind of satisfaction except for the pure and simple satisfying him, not to set aside a greater pleasure for the future, as the past times, but for respect: he had abused him too much to expect something for himself.

Gently he slid his wet fingers between his buttocks, reaching the inviolate entrance and starting to massage it slowly, in order to gradually prepare him, and he rejoiced in feeling the boy relaxing almost immediately, quietly letting him lead him and putting his left knee on his waist in order to ease his movements.

Thinking he was ready the Boogeyman gently penetrated him with the index and, as Jack stiffened with bother, he did the same with amazement: his little snowflake was so soft, so incredibly tight, so _hot_! In comparison, his velvet mouth emanated only a slight warmth... Oh, he had seen how the Guardian of frost could heat up and melt under his expert touch, but he would have never expected this far! What a temptation was, for him, that fire, that hot secret he had just revealed: if he had listened to his instinct he would undoubtedly have forced the other under him, opening his legs and penetrating him discourteously, stealing him his virginity and thrusting again, again, again, biting his hyaline skin and marking him with his semen, as to declare he was his, releasing him only when he would have seen him almost lifeless, exhausted from the union and too tired to be able to feel anything. However, he would have never done that: he had promised himself not to abuse his partner any more, to satisfy him at least this time and not to take anything for himself, and, without doubt, the boy would have never asked him to embrace him, not carnally, not after all he had suffered for.

Blinking a little to regain lucidity the man pulled himself together and, seeing that Jack was calm, he dared to violate with the middle finger, too: instantly he felt him stiffening, moaning in pain and arching the spine, tightly clutching his right arm but not trying to pull it away, as if he was asking him just to stop for a while and not to give up.

Breaking the kiss Pitch hastened to soothe his suffering: he gently made him turn on his back, lying on him without encumber him with his weight and mischievously smiling to him; then, sweetly pressing his nose against his cheek, forcing him to turn his head, finally reaching that special spot just below the ear and immediately starting to stroke him with his tongue.

Frost's response was instantaneous: he arched with a gasp, opening wide his eyes and moaning for the pleasure of the hickey and the pain of penetration. It was so perfect, so sincere in his naive reactions, still new to these feelings so completely absorbing and so so nice to see that the man knew with certainty that he would have never got tired of watching him.

Gradually, the boy became accustomed to the intrusion, relaxing his muscles and clinging to the Boogeyman's neck, and Pitch use the occasion to temporarily remove his fingers, passing his hand between his open legs, to reach him more easily, and starting again to stimulate him; the other, however, was so lost he seemed not to have even noticed that. Satisfied, without any discomfort now for both of them, the man smiled and began a slow, controlled descent, during which he took the liberty to stop whenever he wanted, to bite his smooth skin and soothe, then, the sign of the teeth with a kiss; at every stop he heard a languid sigh from Jack, who seemed to appreciate a lot those attentions sweet and violent at the same time.

Intoxicated by the spicy scent of that skin which was becoming more and more hot Pitch went along his sternum and, too impatient to wait any longer, he skipped a step: in one fluid movement he reached his groin and, without hesitation, he opened his lips and accepted his cock, not hard yet, in one fell swoop.

At the same time Frost arched and burst into a groan, satisfied, but not as the moan of the Boogeyman: he adored touching him in this way. That scent of sex and snow so intense, those moans so lustful, that quivering body, that cock harder and harder that gave him a growing sense of suffocation, everything bewitched him and urged him to continue, sucking again, eagerly, deeper and deeper, faster and faster, until the climax, until he would have received as a gift that hot semen, to be able to taste it a second time. This was the only thing the man wanted, this and nothing else, and, in the attempt to achieve it, he didn't hesitate and he penetrated the other with the ring finger, too, stopping and keeping his mind clear for few seconds just to check he hadn't hurt him, and immediately starting again to move, in order not to make him loose the excitement.

With a deep sigh he clawed at his side, to block him firmly while he increased the pace of both caresses, determined to make him the most intense pleasure before letting him come, but when he thought he was close to the orgasm he felt himself being carried away, pulled by his knee until his face reached his neck.

Just as he asked himself the reason of the interruption, dumbfounded, arrived right in time in the most satisfying moment for Jack, he felt him slightly brushing against his cheek with his nose and he heard him sensually whispering in his ear: «Pitch, make me yours».

At the sound of those two words, as simple as absolute, Pitch froze: make me yours... _make me yours_. He would have never, ever expected such a request from the boy, not even in his wildest dreams. Frost, his strongest and most forbidden desire, his sweetest snowflake, was offering himself in that way, with total abandonment and confidence, after he had been deceived, abused, tortured until he had fainted. In that way, as if it were the most natural thing in the world forgiving all those cruel acts in a blink of an eye, as if it was the right thing giving himself in that way: it was absurd, absurd and inexplicable, like the sincere smile that the boy sent him every time they met, so almost impossible that the Boogeyman did not want to believe it. On the other hand, he couldn't have imagined it, he couldn't have heard wrong: that sentence had been uttered directly into his ear and it had pierced his heart and mind like a sword. It was true, it had to be true: he had to believe, and accept it, before the idyll vanished, before the partner had second thoughts and reversed his decision.

Letting his instinct overwhelm him he abruptly pulled his fingers out the other and pressed them behind his left knee, opening his legs and exposing his as much as possible; then, without further ado, he penetrated him with a single, fluid thrust.

Instantly his eyes widened and he gasped: Jack was so hot, so tight, so incredibly stifling he almost hurt him in the contracted grip around his hard cock. It was this thought to make him pull himself together, the fear that, if he was feeling a little pain, the boy would have been probably torn apart by a greater one: in confirmation of this, when he glanced down, he saw him tense and trembling, his blind irises wide open in a shocked and suffering expression, while hot tears already started to escape from the corners of his eyelids. He had been too hasty, he had hurt him, again, but he would have not get wrong any more: he would have made his little snowflake forgive him soon and he would have never made other mistakes.

Thoughtfully he dried his tears with light kisses, trying to comfort him; when he saw him looking at him he sent him a gaze sorry and full of desire, silently asking for pardon, and it was with joy that he accepted his smile, tense, but sincerely affectionate.

Without hesitation he went down to his neck, while, with open palms, he began to massage his abdomen and thighs in soft caresses which gradually loosened the tension of the muscles until they relax completely. Hearing him calming he languidly licked the hickey, almost purple, under his ear, then he gave a faint thrust to check if he was ready to go further; Frost, in response, groaned and hugged him with passion, pulling him toward himself as to ask him to continue.

Sure he had made him overcome the worst part the man hadn't to be asked twice: he settled his legs in a position more comfortable and less tiring for him, grabbing his left side to follow better their movements, and he started to penetrate him, setting a slow and controlled pace in order not to force him and to make him feeling the most intense pleasure with no pain. As a reward the partner sighed and offered him the jugular, full of bites and bruises, pressing on his neck to ask him to mark it again, and Pitch was happy to oblige, voluptuously mauling it. Biting and sucking he trapped him between himself and the mattress and, hearing dreamy moans, he realized that the boy liked a lot that prey role and the special treatment which, consequently, was reserved for him.

Fearing he had not yet eliminated all the pain from that embrace the Boogeyman slid his left hand along the chest of the other, reaching his crotch and starting to touch it, in order to distract him. Only one, soft caress was enough: the boy was definitely more excited and closer to the limit than he had imagined. Clawing at the sheets, in a vain attempt to hold himself back, and letting out a cry half ecstatic and half frustrated, Jack came, wetting his abdomen and immediately assuming a woebegone expression: he was evidently sorry for what had happened and he thought he had ruined everything.

Oh, silly, silly boy... he always did his best and, in several occasions, he had managed to amaze him with his audacity, but he still hadn't completely filled the void of his inexperience. The man was really satisfied with the situation, and he didn't even need to check if he could continue: Frost was an ancient creature, but his body was still young and uncorrupted over time, so much more sensitive to stimulation than an adult one and better fitted to enjoy the long unions.

Returning with his back upright, to look at him with a mischievous expression and send him the desire he felt towards him, Pitch stroked his erection with his fingertips, to show him that it hadn't softened yet, and he smiled seeing him wincing amazed at this discovery. Few seconds later, however, it was his turn to be surprised: the boy clung to his shoulders, making him bend down on him until they nose tips touched, and, with a hoarse voice and a firm gaze despite his cheeks red with embarrassment, he whispered: «More».

Trying to keep himself focused the Boogeyman rubbed his right cheek against his and said: «As you wish, my little Jack».

He gave a strong thrust, stopping immediately to check his reaction; in response to Jack, who had already tied his legs around his waist, tightening the grip even more, clearly begging him to continue and bursting into dust that little bit of self-control the man had been able to keep.

With a vibrating growl Pitch grabbed him by the hips, penetrating him repeatedly and passionately, and he gasped satisfied when he felt him embracing his back and scratching it: he madly adored violent sex, and those short and sharp nails which tortured him to the point they made him bleed were, for him, a sensual courtship, which, starting from the wounds, turned into thrill and went down, deeper and deeper, until it was conveyed to the groin, urging him to continue and stoke other scratches, in a vicious circle more and more exciting, closer and closer to the limit.

Noticing the partner loosening his grip, perhaps overwhelmed by the myriad of new sensations he was experiencing, the man returned with his back upright and, opening a little his knees, in order so support him better, he continued thrusting, bewitched by the lost look of the other, by his reddened cheeks and snow-white neck exposed in the umpteenth lure, avid of his tortured lips, of his sweet embrace, of his gentle soul, of him in every single aspect and in the complex.

After about ten seconds the boy turned his face, blushing with embarrassment when he realized he had been watched all the time and demurely trying to cover himself; the Boogeyman, however, didn't want to give up that wonderful vision and, stopping, he grabbed his wrists in a firm but gentle grip, whispering: «No. Let me look, Jack».

He repented almost immediately for the request, which, although it had been expressed in a calm voice, sounded more like an order, but all doubt dissolved when Jack yielded, abandoning his arms next to his face not to hide even the smallest part of his body and courageously allowing him to enjoy the sight.

Pitch immediately put his hands on his hips, starting again to penetrate him and ecstatically smiling at the loud cries he heard in response: having the permission to devour him with his eyes as he took him was the best of the concessions that he could imagine, but soon he discovered that there was another one, even more beautiful, which he had not even dared to contemplate.

Assuming a mischievous expression Frost turned his head again, covering his irises with the back of his right hand to emphasize his flushed cheeks and his half opened mouth; with the fingers of the left he faintly touched his battered jugular, passing along the sternum and the collarbone, lifting a little his chest marked with bites and bruises to expose it even more, in a clear lure to take advantage of it; finally, not content with this, it continued to move, slipping on the side, going more and more down.

For the man, this was the coup de grace: seeing him touching himself would have been the crowning achievement of a dream desired for long time, but, unfortunately, he was too close to the limit to let him do that. Turning his face he bit his lip and blinked, trying to hold himself back, but he didn't manage to; renouncing resisting he opened his irises, his mind clouded, his feral look invaded by dark tentacles, and he leapt onto the boy, like a panther on its prey.

It took to him few strong thrusts to reach the craved and long-denied orgasm: temporarily losing his sight Pitch groped, instinctively pushing himself in him to follow the hot chills that went through him until he felt all of them concentrating in the lower abdomen, and, at that point, with a liberating groan, he came, marking him intimately as to declare he was his.

He stayed focused, in order not to collapse in the moment in which he desired the boy could have shared that immense pleasure, but, feeling he had reached the orgasm without further stimulations, he reassured himself, gently sliding out of him, in order not to hurt him or make him feel a sense of nostalgia, and falling soon after.

It was with great effort that, at the last, he managed to divert, collapsing on him, but not encumbering on his chest, while he tried in vain to manage the myriad of feelings that went through him. It was true, it had happened, he had done it: he had embraced Jack in the most absolute way he could have imagined. Oh, he had desired it so much, for such a long time, he had spent whole months, after their first meeting, dreaming it, in a climax which had almost driven him crazy: at first he would have been satisfied even only with a simple hug, then with a caress, then with a kiss, in a crescendo that had almost made him want to rape him in order to claim what he craved for. He had dreamed to take him, on that bed or on another one, against any tree or wall, it had not the slightest importance where or how, he just wanted him, and it was only employing a firm self-control that he had kept from doing that. In this moment he was horrified at the thought he could had thought about violating his little snowflake like that, and he mentally thanked himself for having resisted: he would have never forgiven himself if he had destroyed him in that way.

In this way, on the contrary, it had been wonderful, sublime, to say the least: Frost had offered himself to him with total abandonment, he had opened his legs for him, gently drawing him in the embrace, he had courted him and he had let him court him in turn, sighing in unison with him and giving himself to the hilt; knowing he had been desired had been priceless and it had made the union unforgettable, complete in all its aspects, terribly satisfying.

While he was still trying to think coherently he felt the partner move a little his left arm, which the man had trapped beneath himself, then start to lightly cuddle him with his fingertips; pulling himself together the Boogeyman returned to rest on his forearms, covering the boy without even touching him, and he smiled when he saw him: Frost was literally tired, so exhausted that he wasn't even able to turn his head. He crouched over his face, wincing surprised in seeing him shivering at the mere whiff of his breath, and his expression turned immediately into a mischievous one: maybe Jack was the kind of person who becomes very sensitive after sex? He just had to find it out.

Carefully Pitch stretched out his tongue, he slowly passed it over the hickey under his left ear and he rejoiced when he heard a faint moan in response; with a sigh he began to court him, sucking the bruised jugular, sliding down to capture his left nipple with his teeth and tormenting it a little to steal him loud, lusty cries. Satisfied by having made him gasp frantically again, he went down, finally reaching his wet abdomen and starting to lick it, in order to take away that sweet and spicy nectar, as if, in this way, he could keep forever with himself a part of him.

Slightly scratching his open thighs to send him hot chills, he accurately completed the work, then he went back up to tickle his shoulder with his nose, carefully making sure not to get too close to him, in order not to make him think he would have forced him to taste his own flavour again. The boy, however, surprised him: lovingly hugging him he drew him towards him, seeking his lips and making him open them, kissing him passionately and then accepting, with a moan, his own semen into his mouth, and, although he was amazed, the man was convinced that that taste didn't bother him at all and he took over the helm again, leading him in that last languid union.

After few seconds he lost his breath and he broke the kiss: they were both tired and the boy, in particular, exhausted, as shown by his hurried pants and his liquid gaze. Letting him caress the deep scratches on his back, the Boogeyman stared at him, fascinated, and he saw the partner weakly smiling at him and do the same; timidly he let himself be captured by those two bright sapphires, following their hues, sinking into them as if they were two springs of crystal clear and purifying water, and, soon, he was no longer able to see anything except for those wonderful shades of blue.

Lost in the irises he adored so much, he winced surprised when he felt Frost's thin fingers stroking his cheek, and he shook himself just in time to see Jack moving his lips, trying to speak; going a little closer to him, in order not to make him force himself too much, he lend his ear to him and he heard him whispering in a faint voice: «I love you».

He just had the time to stare at him, with an expression of pure amazement, pierced by that statement; then the only thing he could do was watching Jack closing his eyes and falling asleep, trustfully abandoned in his arms.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this chapter narrates the same events of the last one, but I wrote it because I really wanted to describe you this important experience in the eyes of both Pitch and Jack (as you can notice they had very different thoughts). The italian fandom had appreciated it so much, I hope you liked it, too ^^ next chapter will be published on Saturday or before, have a nice day!


	11. Chapter 11

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 11**

 

 

"I love you". This was what Jack had told him just before he had collapsed, exhausted, with a whisper and a smile on his lips swollen from kissing. In that way, without any warning, without the slightest hesitation, as if that statement was simple and natural: for the Boogeyman, however, it wasn't simple and natural at all.

He had suddenly frozen at the sound of those three short words, and he had heard them echoing in his mind several times before he had been able to fully grasp their meaning: Jack, Jack Frost himself loved him! The boy he had so desperately dreamed, longed and chased had just given his heart in the most moving and generous way he could imagine, and not pretending anything in return, not even an answer. The man would have never expected such a generous and thoughtful gesture, not from a person apparently so frivolous, since he was devoted to jokes, and so little experienced, since he had spent almost his entire life in solitude, invisible and ignored. Exactly like Pitch, anyway. Jack, however, had been able to go further: he had fought tooth and nail to realize himself, after strenuous efforts he had succeeded, he had even become a Guardian, and, instead of going on on his way, satisfied with the results he had achieved and aiming to maintain and improve them, he had turned back, holding out his hand to comfort him and take him with him, to make him feel special, cuddled, _loved_.

This love explained everything that, until then, had seemed strange or incomprehensible: his expression astonished and contrite when he had attacked him from behind and in a moment of weakness, his insistence in following him, his gentleness in repeating that they shouldn't be alone, the complete lack of fear when the Boogeyman had tripped him on the bed and the fact that he hadn't tried to escape, his languid surrendering to forbidden kisses and caresses, the passion with which he reciprocated these attentions, the gift of his body only ten minutes earlier. The most important of these all, however, had been his forgiveness, that kind indulgence with which he had glossed over every torture and cruelty, beyond that painful reality towards a more balanced and sincere future, giving him a second chance to remedy all the evil he had made.

The man could hardly believe it: another chance was an absolute novelty for him, who had always been used to being judged at first glance, marked as evil and therefore persecuted. On the other hand he himself was convinced he had a soul as black as the depths of Hell, and he almost felt to deserve to be treated like a dangerous outcast: he enjoyed people's disgust and the fear he caused with his mere presence, he wrapped himself in darkness in order to strike more terror, and, because of this, he had been so incredulous in front of the courage and the ease with which Jack had faced and dissipated it. Not that, in the past, Pitch had not ever failed in frightening someone: after all, hadn't he been fighting all his life, day after day, to make everyone fear him to the point they didn't even dare to pronounce his name, except at the full sunlight? This time, however, was different.

Love... Maybe, in the distant past, when he was still a human being and not the monster that haunted the dark places, this feeling had been directed to him, maybe he himself had felt it, but now he couldn't remember anything about his previous life, exactly as it had been for his partner. It was all new for him, all curiously mysterious and interesting, and so incredibly perfect to leave him almost with tears in his eyes: love was the dream which he had never let himself hope for, the sublimation of the emotions which, in the despair of his condition, he had always felt so distant to seem almost surreal.

Frost, probably, wasn't even aware of how precious was the gift that he had given to him. Love, in fact, is the absolute feeling par excellence: stronger than thousands children screaming in fear, more powerful than millions of infants who believe, completely impossible to hinder or cancel and thoughtful support for the one who receives it. Love is not simple trust, but also dedication, sweet commitment in ensuring that the other is happy and live a full and satisfying life, and it can hardly fail, since it is often almost total abandonment; in this case, considered Jack's behaviour and the confidence with which he had let himself go in his arms, it was exactly like that.

In light of this fact Pitch could give an explanation for his sudden and significant recovering in his strength during the recent weeks: it was all thanks to Frost, his most forbidden desire and his enemy most difficult to beat. What a great irony was that he had been exactly the one who had defeated him to raise him up, and the one who had sealed his fall, after his short reign of few months earlier, with a harsh sentence to address him such kind words: as a matter of fact, the boy had shown him to have far too much power over him, in every sense.

At this point, how would things have changed between them? The Guardian and the Boogeyman would have continued to fight? Oh, yes, Pitch had no doubt about this: he would have never given up the desire to dominate the world and cancel the naïve smilies full of happiness and wonder from the children's mouths, and Jack, of course, would have never let him do that, not even if he had promised him he would have shared his throne. However, as much the man was sure the boy, during the battles, would have fought him with all his strength, always siding with the Guardians, he was as much willing to bet that, in times of peace, he would have thrown his arms around his neck, smiling with joy: Frost was so fickle and unpredictable, but definitely stubborn and determined in what he was interested into, and he had showed more than enough the interest he felt towards him.

While he focused to avoid giggling at the thought and, so, waking him up, the Boogeyman realized that he had stood motionless for the entire reflection, leaving the boy under himself, with his legs still slightly opened, and, considered the hiss which he gave off at each laboured breath, he wasn't in a comfortable position. Pitch hastened to lie down next to him, in order not to encumber him with his weight, and he settled him better, making sure that muscles and joints were relaxed, in order not to cause him cramps when he would have waken up, and reweaving the blanket of darkness to wrap him in a soft warmth.

Sighing, he paused to stare Jack: his little snowflake was so beautiful, so harmonious in every lineament relaxed by fatigue and childishly curled up in the black cloth; his, however, was not a selfish sleep: he had instinctively stretched out his arms in front of him, as if he was searching for something, and Pitch, touched, accepted the sweet lure, settling in that warm nest and hugging him.

He had been so foolish to believe he could have soiled him, foolish and blind: Frost was not like the snow that lies on the side of the road, but as one that rests on the top of the highest mountains, perfect in every single crystal and so white to dazzle. That white blanket can never be defiled, nor ruined, because it is too pure and far from earthly futility, and, if the man who yearns fails manages, after immense efforts, to reach it, he can only be enchanted by it, sinking his injured hands in it and finding them magically spotless, without the blood could contaminate the icy mantle. This was exactly what had happened to him: he had tried to corrupt his snowflake, bewitching him in every way and struggling to the point he had injured himself, but the only thing he had got was falling at his feet, finding himself purified from evil thoughts and worried about his health and safety.

Inevitably he thought about those three simple words that had sealed their embrace: Jack loved him, but what did he feel for him? Love was a feeling so strange and new for him that he seemed to almost not be able to conceive it: he saw it as something unattainable, unthinkable, too alien to his dark nature dark to concern him.

Frost sighed, catching his attention, interrupting those inconclusive reflections and giving him an excuse to let them drop; with a smile, the man began to cuddle him, enjoying the soft moans he let out and the grip in which he unknowingly wrapped him as a reward and an incitement to continue. It almost seemed that the boy was asking him not to leave, but he had nothing to fear about: Pitch would have never let his sweet, secret treasure go away, he would have always protected him, during the battles he would have ensured to fight and defeat him, but not to destroy him, and, during the moments of respite, he would have enjoyed his kisses and caresses, great consolations for the domain not conquered yet.

Feeling exhausted he rested his lips on his one last time, in a short and chaste farewell, then he leaned his head against the mattress and he closed his irises. As usual, he soon felt himself slipping into a black and anonymous oblivion, which invaded his eyes and mind, canceling every thought and feeling; shortly after, however, something broke that gloomy monotony. A being, indefinite, but brighter and brighter, emerged from the shadows, bravely making his way through the tentacles of darkness until he showed up at his sight: it was a bunny. It was incredibly small, weak and trembling, but in its sapphire irises it could be read a strong determination; with few leaps the rabbit came closer to him, then it hopped away, but it immediately turned to check his reaction. The Boogeyman took a moment to realize that it was patiently waiting for him, to guide him somewhere, but, in the end, overcoming the fear of the unknown, he smiled and followed him.

 

 

Jack woke up slowly, blinking a bit to shake off the last remnants of sleep and trying to familiarize: he was still lying prone on the threadbare mattress in Pitch's room, and he was still wrapped in the blanket of darkness that it had been woven for him, but, apparently, he was alone. While the panic was rising in him, he squirmed a little to look around; in doing so he bumped into something with his right leg, and it was with an intimate sigh of relief that, turning, he saw the Boogeyman next to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, covered only by his trousers and intent to observe him: at least on that occasion he had staid, he hadn't avoided his eyes after what they had done and he hadn't left him with the only company of endless questions and guilt.

Before he could even open his mouth he heard the man saying him with an amused smile: «You're such a late sleeper, Jack».

With a groan the boy rubbed his palms on his face and asked: «Mh, why? What time is it?».

«It's about eleven o'clock at night: your precious Christmas is almost over» replied the other.

«Dang, you're right, I slept a lot... and you?» demanded Frost.

«Me? Maybe are you wondering if I slept? Well, as far as your continuous fussing, trying to hug me and then pushing me away with your knees allowed me yes, I slept, but it was a real feat!» exclaimed the Boogeyman, feigning resentment.

«What?!»

«What do you mean with “what?”? Didn't you know that, at night, you never stay still?» asked Pitch, genuinely surprised.

«Not really. During the last three hundred years I have always slept alone, no one could tell me if I was moving or not» reasoned aloud the boy.

«Me too, actually» mused the other.

Seeing him grieving Jack started to get up and go to console him, but a stab of pain forced him to stop and let out a stifled moan.

Worried the man turned to him with a questioning look, and the boy had to confess: «Uhm, Pitch, I, well, to be sincere, my... my back hurts...» he managed finally to conclude, blushing up to the ears.

Immediately he heard an amused laugh, then he saw the Boogeyman coming closer to his face with a sly expression and whispering: «Oh, a little kid here has worn out himself in doing somersaults».

Offended and deeply embarrassed by the epithet Frost put his right hand on his cheek, to push him away, and, with an angry voice, he yelled: «I'm not a kid! Anyway, don't try to tell me that it's not your fault!».

In response the other laid on him, no encumbering in any way on him with his light weight, then he rubbed his nose along his spine and neck and he spoke.

«Oh, Jack, I could let you say that I started first, even if it's not true, but for sure it was you who said: “Ah, Pitch, more!”» he murmured, perfectly imitating his tone, but making the sentence a thousand times more sensual with his low and vibrant voice.

«I didn't say that!» shouted the boy, rightly, and he concluded: «Go away, if you are here just to tease me I will do it on my own!».

He tried to turn, but he felt the man sitting on his thighs and, when he tried to dislodge him, putting his hands on his shoulders, pushing him against the mattress and uncovering him to the waist.

Puffing he started to protest, but soon he realized that Pitch, silently, was just trying to help him: evoking some tentacles of magic sand he was massaging his, rubbing his open palms on every aching muscle and sore bone to calm him down, giving him pleasant chills at every caress and continuing until he felt him completely relaxed.

Grateful for the thoughtful cuddling Frost touched his knee and murmured: «Thank you, Pitch».

The Boogeyman leaned over the back of his head and softly whispered: «You're welcome, ardent colt».

With an exasperated snarl, the boy finally managed to shake him off, making him fall on the edge of the bed, and, with a harsh voice, he asked: «If I am an ardent colt what should you be?».

Standing up and staring at him with expert eye he answered: «What a silly question: obviously I'm the perfect Pureblood».

This time it was Jack 's turn to laugh amused and reply: «Modesty is your more evident virtue, Pitch».

«False modesty is a fault as much as pride or vanity: denying the evidence would be useless and absurd» concluded the man.

Although he wasn't convinced the guy gave up to talk and, taking advantage of the fact that the partner had his back on him, he quickly recovered his underwear and put them on; he knew that he had liberally shown himself naked to him, but now the situation was completely different: the context was not so intimate and a little embarrassment was normal, especially since the Boogeyman had already put his trousers on before he had woken up.

Carried out that he looked up and saw the other leaning forward the ground to catch his hoodie, and he couldn't hold back a little cry; at this sound the man turned, with an interrogative look, and, pointing to his back, Frost stuttered: «Oh, sorry, Pitch, I'm sorry, so sorry, I didn't want to mess it like that, your...».

«... Back?» completed in his place the partner; «Yes, you've played tic-tac-toe with it, kitten. Next time, if you want, I'll give you more sheets, so you'll scratch only them».

«I hurt you, didn't I? Forgive me: I didn't think that the mark I left you were so deep» said the boy with a sincerely sorry expression.

The man threw him his hoodie and sat next to him, then, winking, he reassured him: «No, Jack, you didn't hurt me».

Calming down Jack put on his trousers and stood up to tie them, but the other stopped him, saying: «No, wait: let me do it».

Amazed that the boy let him, allowing him to girding his sides to accommodate the cloth and carefully tie the laces on the front, and he shuddered when he felt him drawing him in a warm hug.

With a little joking tone he dared to say: «Oh, you are so sweet, Pitch».

He almost couldn't finish the sentence that he felt the partner tightening the grip and firmly biting him at the base of the neck.

«Ouch! Are you crazy?! You've surely left a mark!» he shouted, astonished and piqued that fit of violence.

«Oh, Jack, considered all the marks you've left me you certainly can't complain, and, after all, you've covered with them... and this is how it must be. Do not ever forget it: you are mine, mine and only mine» whispered Pitch with an intimate behaviour.

Despite the claim and the gesture had been too possessive Frost felt flattered by them: he wanted it to be so, he wanted to be special for him, he wanted him to always court and search for him. The fact that this involved a little abuse of power by the partner was not a problem for him: the important thing was that, sooner or later, the Boogeyman understood that the same counted for him.

Sitting on his lap he wore the hoodie and the shirt together, getting wrapped among the layers of clothes and letting the man help him to settle them, then he stood up to retrieve the laces. While he was tying them to his calves he saw the partner deftly recreating the robe with he used to wear, cutting a deep and sensual neckline on his chest, and he chuckled, amused by the fact that Pitch just couldn't help but being attractive at any time and occasion.

While he was still knelt on the floor he noticed, on the opposite corner of the room, his staff, which laid forgotten since he had dropped it, so he asked with a gentle voice: «Pitch, can you please give me my staff?».

Since he didn't hear any answer he raised his head and, amazed, he saw the man piercing him with a glaring look, staring at him with hatred and baring his teeth as if he was snarling; in explanation he said with an angry tone: «Do you think I'm such an idiot, little Jack?».

The boy couldn't help but stare at him and ask incredulously: «Why?».

With a venomous tone Pitch replied: «Do you think I don't know what will happen? Do you think I've forgotten the way you froze my hands? That little trick doesn't work on me anymore!».

Jack let out a sigh of relief and he almost laughed: he had really feared the Boogeyman had deceived him till that moment, using him and then conveniently returning evil and selfish. He gently reassured him: «Oh, Pitch, no, you don't have to fear it: it won't hurt you. As I already explained you days ago you can't steal me my staff by force, because my powers can't be yours and they rebel when you try to take them, but if you don't have evil intent nothing bad will happen. Try it».

«I repeat that I'm not stupid!» concluded the other, annoyed.

Puffing the boy stood up, picked up the staff and reached the man, handing it to him and repeating again: «Come on, try it! Don't you trust me?».

«No!» was the abrupt answer, a true bitter blow for Frost, who, however, took it, holding back the tears and continuing to insist, sending him a sorrowful but sincere smile in order to be most convincing. Seeing the partner stretching out his right hand, carefully, but staying at a safe distance, he reached him, intertwining his fingers with his ones and finally making him touch the wood.

He enjoyed all the way down his childish jolt at that contact, which had nothing painful, and the disbelief that came over his sharp face when he made sure that nothing strange was happening; few seconds later he chuckled in seeing him shake his head as if to wake up and move away angrily, muttering something about the cold and dodging his eyes, clearly embarrassed.

Shrugging his large shoulders Pitch walked into the hallway and Jack followed him, pretending his clinical attitude was due to the discomfort he had felt before and trying not to think too much; struggling a little to walk behind him across the stone halls and the immense cave adorned with stalactites and black cages, staring at his back in order not to loose him.

Suddenly, he noticed on his left side the Globe of metal, still adorned with numerous bright lights, and he slowed down a little, enchanted by them, but soon a sound brought him back to reality: the other had noticed the Globe, too, but, unlike him, he had snorted exasperated, growling and walking away in haste without looking back.

Worried the boy hastened to follow him, but he saw him dissolving and disappearing; bravely running into the darkness he groped, finally recognizing the tunnel he had used many times to enter into the Boogeyman's lair, and, flying up along it, he went out into the clearing.

He search for the partner, but, since he couldn't see him, he called: «Pitch!».

He swept the horizon for few seconds, but he immediately felt a cold shiver going up his spine, as if there were a presence lurking behind him. Springing round his suspect was confirmed: the man was leaning toward him, the usual sensual and arrogant expression on his face, and he whispered: «Tell me, Jack».

With a leap Frost instinctively jumped back, asking with an annoyed voice: «Why do you always do that?».

He was angry because he had thoughtfully rushed to comfort him and he had found himself startled by his umpteenth trick, and the answer he received didn't change his mood.

«Oh, Jack, you know: scaring is what I do best».

«That's not true, Pitch» replied the boy.

«Of course it is! And then it's my job: it is obvious that it's so natural to me, in fact, right now, I'm going to scare some lost children whom Sandman isn't keeping an eye on» concluded Pitch, with a wicked smile and an air of superiority.

With a grin half amused and half disappointing Jack stared at him, then he commented: «You are incorrigible».

They laughed in unison, even though his partner's laugh seemed too pleased to the boy, and when hilarity faded away none of them spoke. In that awkward silence Frost could not help but be silent, unable to talk, but, while his mouth didn't let out a sound, his mind was a deafening cacophony. What would have happened now? Would Pitch have gone away again? Would he have said goodbye properly or would he have disappeared after a quick greeting, like the previous times? And then, would he have come back? Would they ever have met, sooner or later? Could he ever have hugged him? And would the man have cuddled him again?

These and other thousand thoughts crowded into Frost's head with, deep or futile questions which, however, were piling up one on the other and stifling the most important one: what did Pitch feel for him?

This question overwhelmed him, leaving him trembling and weak, because, depending on the answer, his life would have changed in a radically different way. He had had a genuine and almost childlike trust in him, and, until then, he had never doubted of him, justifying in a more or less reasonable way every cruelty or act selfishness and indifference and resisting for both of them, but it was passed enough time to wear down his tenacity and tinging it of despair. At this point he endured by inertia and stubbornness, clinging to the sporadic human looks that the Boogeyman let out and ignoring his evil acts, and he knew the reason of all this: he wouldn't have handled knowing that he was used to the end. He loved him so much and he felt so whole and perfectly reciprocated that his soul would have been destroyed by the discovery that he had been courted only for profit, only in order to be corrupted so that his body was at Pitch's beck and call. Maybe he could have managed to bear the fact that the other wanted to turn him in his personal weapon, because this had been clear since the beginning, but he would have certainly fallen if he had known that their every meeting had been characterized only by pleasure, and that their last embrace had been sex and nothing else. Unfortunately, however, the behaviour that the Boogeyman had had in the last minutes make him suspect it.

Too involved in those confused thoughts he took a step, stretching out his right arm and calling the partner by name, almost without realizing it, and he shuddered when he felt him grabbing his hand with his one and looking him with an interrogative expression.

He stared at him with a bewildered look, determined not to ask him clarification about his feelings as, taken by anxiety, he had been going to do; the man, however, surprised him, acting by instinct and making him started with amazement.

With a quick movement the Boogeyman covered the distance between them and pushed his lips on his ones, hugging him tightly and pressing gently, but firmly, the palm on his neck; he stood in that position for a moment, his eyes closed, unlike the widened one of the boy, then he deepened the contact, drawing him in a passionate kiss until they were both out of breath. He broke away, panting, and, still holding Jack tightly between his arms, he stared at his irises, while a softly human light brightened his ones. After a while, however, he moved and courted, with his tongue, that little inch of tortured skin under the left lobe, until he stole him a moan, then he sensually whispered: «See you soon, Jack».

Said this he disappeared, dissolving himself into a coil of black sand which whimsically twirled itself around the boy's neck, as a final gesture of farewell, and he flew into the night.

«Pitch» murmured the boy, vainly stretching out his fingers toward an empty sky.

Pitch had been sweet at first, but he hadn't waited long to change his kindness into a sensual lust; and above all, Frost thought while a tear slid on his cheek, he hadn't answered to him.

 

 

 

New drawing by Fridarush!

 

<http://fridarush.tumblr.com/post/97680335347/cianethedevil-another-fanart-from-the-ff-what>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be published on Wednesday or before ^^. Please, notice that I've already translated chapter 12, 13 and 14: I'm just waiting for the revision of the gentle girl who helps me. As I already told you I generally made few mistakes in my translation (about 4-6 a chapter), but I prefer to publish them only after her revision, so, please, have a little patience ^^ she's busy and, somewhen, she needs almost a week to find time for it. If I am ever late consider this, thank you. Feel free to leave a comment if you want to ^^


	12. Chapter 12

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 12**

 

 

«Pitch» whispered Jack.

He stood for a while, staring at the sky now empty, but eventually he understood that the faint call had been lost in the chilly breeze that was blowing that night. He was alone, again: the Boogeyman had greeted him and then disappeared, as always, and, as always, he had left him without a response.

A sob shook the boy's chest and he suddenly realized that he had stood motionless for some time, while warm tears had wetted his cheeks. He quickly dried them, rubbing the back of his hand over his face, annoyed and embarrassed by the involuntary outburst, so, in order to calm down, he chose a random direction and started to walk.

He strode away with his head held high, but few meters where enough to shatter every bold purpose: gradually he slowed down until he stopped and, staring at the white snow in which his feet were sinking, he sighed. Why, why had Pitch behaved like that since they had left his room? He had been cold and aloof, even cruel in some moments, as when he had heedlessly trampled on his feelings, saying that he didn't trust him, and this had deeply hurt Jack: why, after all the kindness he had shown, had he changed his behaviour so radically? Had all he had done been a deception, just a way among the infinite possible ones to keep him quiet and persuade him to collaborate? He couldn't give himself an answer.

The thing that troubled him most, however, was the fact that he couldn't understand his parting kiss: languid, luxurious, stolen before a promise full of sensuality and completely outside the context, considered the atmosphere of arrogance and indifference. Why? The boy was afraid to find out what the answer was, because, as he tried to think clearly, the only solution that loomed in his mind was almost terrifying for his psyche: he feared he had been used, gently courted and fondled just by opportunism, for some hours of free and fulfilling sex and nothing else; he feared he had been only an instrument in the man's hand, just an insignificant boy who had had the silly idea to open his legs and let the Boogeyman settle between them and took advantage of him; he feared he was just a game for him, and he dreaded the moment when he would have got tired of him.

Although he was making an effort he couldn't think about any other explanation: he had gently followed his approaches, generously forgiven every cruel act and he had given him his body and heart, why, why hadn't this been enough to move him? Jack could not do anything more than this, he had offered his whole self, and now there was nothing left, for him, except the pain of that "I love you" not reciprocated. Why, why had that happened? It was not fair, it was not how it was supposed to end! The boy had carefully watched the guys he had met the day before: the two had argued and the older one had even punched the other, but, when the younger one had forgiven his partner, everything had been solved; they had kissed and made love, then the elder had hold his lover in his arms, begging his pardon, he had promised he would have never hit him again and, since that moment, he had treated him with such a gentleness and delicacy he had moved him.

Their story had had a good end, even though it had been tinged with violence and mutual incomprehension, why couldn't it be so the same for himself and Pitch? Frost had been so convinced that giving himself to him would have destroy every barrier and shattered every mask that, when this had not happened, he had felt confused, like an owl in the full light of the sun, and, like it, now his mind flew without a scheme, flapping hither and yon into unsolvable questions, blinded by doubt and unable to protect themselves or withdraw from that pure chaos.

Lost in these sad and inconclusive thoughts, the boy took few seconds to notice a rustling sound in the background: it was almost like a low hum, which grew louder and louder at every moment, until it became clear and recognizable.

Before he can even finish the thought, however, Jack was hit by something soft, plumy and very colourful which, with a cry, hugged him, lifting him into the air to make him do a pirouette and then laid it on the ground again, fluttering galvanized around him few moments later.

«Oh, Jack, Jack, _Jack!_ We have reached ten billion caskets! Look here: this is the precious tooth that has made us cross the finish line! Have you ever seen a right upper canine so cute? Besides, it is strange that it was the first one to fall! And look, he even used the floss!»

Combing his hair with his fingers and giggling the boy, faking a reproaching tone, replied: «Oh, nice to meet you, Tooth! You know, I understand your excitement, but you've literally crushed me: you should be more careful the next time».

«Oh, Jack, I'm sorry!» apologized the fairy, contrite, but soon after she smiled and asked: «However, have you seen what a beautiful tooth is?».

«Yes, it's cute» admitted Frost, winking; «Anyway, I congratulate you on the goal you have achieved! I am sure that now your kingdom is even more beautiful... and more chaotic, cause I'm sure the fairies are in awe like you!».

«Oh, yes, you must see them, and in fact you'll do: you are officially invited to the celebration! Will you come? The other Guardians are already there, waiting for us».

After her offer Toothiana gained height, as to ask him to fly with her; the boy, however, hesitated to answer.

Although he had been able to put aside his thoughts about the last hours during that brief, but overwhelming, conversation, he had never forgotten the soreness he felt, so, in order not to make a poor showing, he decided to demand with nonchalance: «Oh, sure, Tooth, I'm happy to come with you. I only wanted to ask you, do you have a North's snow globe with you? So we could immediately get into your kingdom? You know, my back hurts a little and it's not so comfortable, for me, to ride the wind in this condition».

«Right, you've already ridden enough for today» concluded with a malicious look.

At first Jack, dumbfounded stared at her, confused by the apparently meaningless sentence, then he understood the allusion. Opening wide his eyes he suddenly got pale and, moving his left hand to cover his face, he turned to hide himself; the woman rushed over him, alarmed by the reaction and perhaps worried he was going to feel sick, but the boy couldn't help but burst out: «Toothiana!».

«What's up? Tell me, Jack, you're feeling sick or is there something else? You're as white as a sheet!».

Exasperated and embarrassed beyond imagination Frost said: «No, it's that, that... a fairy shouldn't even think about such things!».

«Oh, sure, and a Guardian shouldn't even do such thing, am I right?» replied Tooth, with a mischievous smile.

Hearing that statement, for the boy, was like receiving a bitter blow: his words were the exact confirmation of his fears. He should have never looked for the Boogeyman after his defeat, he should have never desired his embrace: he was a Guardian, he had a duty towards the world, how could he have even thought he had the permission to let himself be drawn by feelings? He should have continued his work, bringing winter in the countries and taking care of children, not entertain himself with Pitch. He would have fulfilled his task, but he had sold himself to his most bitter enemy, and the worst thing was that this fact saddened and distressed him, but he didn't feel guilty: he really loved the man, and he couldn't erase this feeling.

Hurt by this awareness and the harsh judgement of the woman he considered his best friend, and even, in some cases, almost a mother, Jack turned and walked away, keeping his head down and covering his face with his left hand to hide the tears in his eyes. Toothiana called him, but he almost didn't hear her and, ignoring her, he went towards his non-existent goal, trying to escape from the pain and the reproaches that would have surely come.

This, however, was not remotely enough to make the fairy give up: without further ado she flew up and went in front of him, then she put her hands on his shoulders and said: «Jack, Jack! Listen to me, please!».

«You're right: I was a fool, I should have never done that» murmured Frost with a toneless voice and a lifeless look.

«No! Jack, please, I was joking: I answered you in that way only to make you understand how absurd were all that statement! Come on, come with me and sit down on this log: you're pale as a corpse» said the woman.

Thoughtfully guiding him to a thick branch few meters from them, he made him sit down, then she sat next to him, leaving him a little time to recover; then, gently shaking his shoulder to reassure him and get his attention, she spoke.

«Jack, now you have to listen to me carefully, because I have to explain something that seems you haven't figured out yet. It is not true that I can't think about “such things”, or that you can't do them. We are the Guardians, it is true, we have important duties and we should never forget them, because we are in the world for a specific task and we must fulfill them, but, except for this, we have nothing less than a normal human being. We have feelings, we can be happy or feel tired, organize a celebration for a special event or take a little break to have some free time, get up on the wrong side of the bed and not want to see anyone or be willing to help everyone, we can feel curious or bored, be serious or malicious, and, above all, we can love. You love Pitch, didn't you?».

During the speech the boy had gradually turned his expression from an empty to an amazed one and, finally, to a moved one, and, almost without realizing it, he answered: «Yes, I love him».

Smiling Tooth commented: «It's evident, Jack: you've changed in the past few months, you're more mature, more affectionate and thoughtful. Do not let foolish thoughts confuse or stop you: you have the right to love him».

«It 's just that...» started Frost, suddenly stopping because of the pang of sadness and the awareness of what he was about to reveal.

The fairy gave him a worried look, then he encouraged him: «Come on, Jack: tell me everything. I'm not here to pry into your concerns, but it's clear that something distress you: I want to help you and I will never talk about anything you will reveal to me, so do not worry and vent. Do not keep it all inside, or you will just continue to suffer more and more».

With a sigh the boy let his staff drop down, listening to the gentle thud it made when it fell on the snowy ground, and, massaging his temples to concentrate, he confessed: «I love him, I love him so much and I managed to tell him this today, this morning, to be more precise. I said it before falling asleep, because it seemed to me the right time, a significant moment, and then I closed my eyes, leaving him plenty of time to reflect. When I woke up we talked a bit and Pitch, at first, was nice, but he took just few minutes to return the same he's always been, distant and sometimes even evil; then we went out, he said me goodbye and he flew away, and he never answered me».

«Oh, Jack...» interjected Toothiana, stopping when she saw that he wanted to talk more.

«It's just that» continued Jack with a trembling voice; « I, I did not expect this... I hoped that he would answered me, that, at least, he would talk about it and not completely ignore what I said, but he didn't. I am afraid he doesn't love me as I thought and he's just using me: I'm afraid to be just a toy for him».

With a sigh, the fairy drew him into a warm hug, and the boy settled more than willingly on the soft shoulder that was offered to him, leaving the coloured feathers tickle him and trying in vain to stop thinking about Pitch.

After few seconds the woman exclaimed: «Ah, l'amour!».

Dumbfounded Frost asked: «What?».

«Love, Jack!» replied Toothiana, amused, then he ruffled his hair with her hand; «Love, which makes everyone blind and sighing, even the most rebellious Guardians, as I see».

«Wait, why “blind"?» asked the boy, curious, while he moved away from her shoulder to stare in her eyes.

«Oh, Jack, do you really think that Pitch is using you? That he would worth so much trouble to court and cuddle you only to take advantage of you? Come on, don't be silly. If he really wanted your power he would have approached you in a different way, maybe trying to seduce you, but not in this way: he's skillful, but he can feign affection if he doesn't feel it. If, on the contrary, he just desired your body, he would, without doubt, tried to bewitch someone less brave and rebellious than you: it wouldn't have made sense struggling so much just to achieve that. Rather, you have never speak about Nightmares. Has he ever used them against you? I bet not. Have you asked yourself why? Have you wondered why, when you were asleep, he hugged you and slept with you instead of causing you a bad dream and make you fall into his hands?».

«How do you know that he slept with me and he had even hugged me!?» exclaimed Jack, amazed.

«Women's intuition, Jack» replied the fairy, winking; «Not that it was difficult to guess that… however, that's not the point. Come on, answer me».

«Actually I never thought about that» admitted the boy.

«Mh, too engrossed in the situation, am I wrong, Jack the lover?» said the woman with a chuckle.

«Stop giving me nicknames!» snapped Frost.

When he had heard that epithet, in fact, he had remembered all the various nicknames with which he had been called by the Boogeyman, and he couldn't help but blush. Giving up controlling himself he decided to change the subject, taking the opportunity to ask a question which lied at his heart, and he demanded: «Rather, if you're sure he really loves me, why didn't he just say that?».

«Oh, Jack» started Toothiana with a rueful; «I certainly don't want to destroy all your hope, or make you sad, but I don't think he will answer you soon: in the end he is the Boogeyman. He has spent centuries in solitude, surrounded by Nightmares, dedicated to frighten children and other creatures in any way he knows: it's all new to him and, most of all, alien and, sometimes, incomprehensible. I am sure that he took a while to start cuddling you, and that, at first, he did it without even realizing it, and you know why? He have never received a caress in his entire life: many creatures fear him and everyone hates him, it is normal that, initially, he didn't know what kindness was».

«And in his past life, before he became the Boogeyman?» asked the boy, curious.

«He was a brave and proud man, full of good intentions and feelings, and, unfortunately, because of that, his life had a sad end. However, it is useless to talk about his past, because, as it was for you, he doesn't remember it any more» explained the fairy with a grave voice.

«Can't you help him remember?» asked Jack, hopeful.

«No, unfortunately I can't: I wasn't born yet when he was transformed, and his teeth have been lost» said the woman, while her face showed a sorrowful expression; «This, however, doesn't mean that Pitch is unrecoverable: you'll just need to have patience and guide him. Can you imagine how hard it is for him, who have always been living in the dark, admitting to have positive feelings, even one as absolute as love? It's quite normal he feels confused and embarrassed: he sees the situation as an absurd contradiction. As you were afraid of having sold yourself, putting aside the eternal battle that exists between the Guardians and the Boogeyman, he thinks he has failed in his dark task hugging you and thoughtful indulging in cuddles. Exactly like you used to think he has always be sure he was born only to fullfil a task, and, like you, he has always pursued it, turning it into a personal entertainment, but, deep down, feeling it as a duty. Help him to open his eyes as I did with you: let him know he has the right to live his own life, in the way he likes and with the person he desires most. He will never cease being the Boogeyman and scaring children, but this doesn't mean he can't love: he did it in the past, and he will be able to do it again».

When he heard these words the boy saw the light: here it was, here it was the reason of Pitch's cruel and absurd behaviour! It was just a way to cover up the embarrassment! Oh, how silly he had been in not realizing it on his own: worn down by the waiting he had doubted of the man, misinterpreting his actions and not considering the issue of analysing the situation more thoroughly and, above all, with a clear mind. Although he wasn't happy at all in admitting this he had to confess that Toothiana was right: he had let love blinding him and he hadn't thought about it, as he had managed to do just until the day before. It wasn't so bad, however: he was certainly new to this feeling, but the Boogeyman seemed to be in the same situation: he just need to have a little patience and slowly they would have learned what to do, together.

With a smile full of joy Frost said: «Thank you, Toothiana. I'm sorry I let myself go like that, but I was so confused...».

«Don't worry, Jack: after all, it is all new for you, too. If you ever want to ask me something, feel free to: in my own small way, I will try to help you» replied the fairy, motherly.

«So, can I ask a favour to you and your famous “woman's intuition"?» demanded the boy, jokingly; «Can you tell me what I can do to help Pitch?».

The woman chuckled, amused, and answered: «Oh, Jack, have a lot of patience, really a lot! Make him feel loved and cuddled, involve him into something that lies outside of his daily task of instilling terror and, above all, never doubt that he loves you, even when he will try to ignore you, or send you venomous words. Do not give weight to his occasional cruel sentences: always think about his kind gestures. For example, the goodbye kiss he gave you few minutes ago, before he disappeared, was surely a bit possessive, but also so full of love it would have move a Nightmare».

At that last statement Jack gasped, looking down to hide the embarrassment which was reddening his cheeks, commented: «Did... did you see us...?».

«Well, certainly you can't say you were hiding!» exclaimed Tooth.

To defuse the situation she gave him a slight nudge, trying to shake him and make him recover, but shortly after he froze, suddenly: she stood for few seconds, struck by a sudden thought, then she burst into a merry laughter, clutching at a bifurcation of the log on which they sat in order not to fall and drying her watery eyes with the back of her hand, unable to control herself.

The boy looked at her, puzzled, then his gaze became serious and he ordered: «Toothiana, in the name of all your caskets, tell me what did swirl around in your feathery head».

Taking a breath to calm down the fairy sighed, then she confessed: «Think... think if Bunnymund had passed here!».

Then she had a new fit of laughter, which made her finally fall into the snow.

Blushing up to the ears Frost shuddered, then he murmured: «Bunnymund...».

Finally calming down the woman stood up, shaking the snow off her feathers, and she asked: «What did you say, Jack?».

«Bunnymund... and North, and Sandman... Oh, Tooth, you are so gentle and understanding with me, but they will never accept this: they hate Pitch. They won't believe their own eyes if they ever see me hugging him, and they will consider it as a betrayal».

Turning serious Toothiana grabbed him by his shoulders and, with a severe voice, she spoke.

«Jack, I have to ask you something: I know you love Pitch, but did you also go over his side? Will you let him try to conquer the world with his darkness, will you even lead his Nightmares in the battle?».

«No, never!» firmly cried the boy; «I will never let him dominate the world with his darkness, I will protect the children at the cost of my life! I won't let him destroy their minds and break the balance».

The fairy smiled happily and concluded: «In this case you don't need to fear the reaction of the other Guardians: your life is yours, you have to pass it with those you love and we do not have the right to judge you, if you don't forget your duties. However, I don't think that they will merely tolerate your relationship with undisguised disdain: maybe I'm the only one who really shows it, but none of us hate Pitch. He is the necessary evil, he lonely carries out a job as thankless as useful and, in return, he receives only hatred and insults: he lives a very hard life, and few creatures would be able able to bear it. Knowing this and not being able to help him has always saddened us, and seeing that you can dispel the darkness with which he wraps himself and bring the light in his heart can only make us happy. Pitch is a strong man, but this doesn't means he doesn't deserve support or even just a small break in his cruel but important task».

«Really?» Jack asked, astonished.

«Really» assured Toothiana.

«Oh, thank you, Toothiana! You're a true friend» exclaimed the boy.

To let her know how happy he was for that conversation he threw his arms around her neck, stealing her a motherly smile; in response the woman hugged him and, stroking his shoulder, she whispered: «Look, Jack: I have a gift for you».

Dumbfounded Frost turned and saw, in front of himself, two little fairies carrying a North's snow globe.

«I sent her to my realm as soon as you told me you had back pain: in this way you won't have to justify any awkward landing when you will arrive in my Palace» said the woman, winking.

The boy blushed a little and sent her a gaze full of gratitude and he didn't talk: words would have never been enough to thank such a careful and understanding behaviour.

Smiling back at the fairy he picked up the snow globe, he muttered it their destination and he threw it in front of himself: immediately the wind rose and a magical portal appeared in the forest.

«We are waiting for you, Jack: come whenever you want» concluded Toothiana, then she flew to her merry kingdom with her little helpers.

Jack took a moment to reflect: the encounter with the fairy had been pure manna from heaven. Her maternal love had consoled him by the pain he felt, and her woman's understanding had helped him to solve every doubt and erase every bad thought: the Guardian had showed herself a generous and invaluable friend again, ready to support him every time he stumbled and encouraging him when he hesitated. That conversation had restored his strength and conviction which, because of anxiety and inexperience, he had lost, and he would have never been able to thank her enough for all she had done.

Inevitably, his mind turned to Pitch: where was he in this moment? And what was he thinking about? Maybe was he reflecting on their relationship?

He didn't have to wait long to receive an answer: as soon as he looked skyward he saw a dark figure moving quickly. Shading his eyes with his hand from the glare of the snow-covered ground, he finally recognized a Nightmare: powerful and willowy, it galloped until he silhouetted against the full moon, and there he reared, his beautiful profile enhanced by the evanescent mane and framed by the long, waving tail, twisted to form a ring around his body which reached the tips of the front hooves.

The boy didn't doubt even for a moment that the Pureblood was the most beautiful the man had ever created, and that he had sent him expressly to give him a last and indirect goodbye. Smiling at the idea he had finally won a special place in the Boogeyman's heart he picked up the staff and, blowing on it, he sent a gentle load of fine snowflakes, in order to lovingly winnow those sinuous tentacles. He heard the stallion whinnying in response, then, with a smile, he moved back, staring at it until the portal swallowed him in a whirlwind of colours.

 

 

 

My gentle friend drew three funny fanarts for this chapter ^^ here are the links:

 

<http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/121/a/8/image_1367423277235904_by_bennucciacartuccia-d63ptem.jpg>

(Tooth says: "You've ride enough for today!")

 

<http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/121/f/5/untitled_by_bennucciacartuccia-d63pted.jpg>

(Tooth says: "Okay, Mr Frost, tell me everything") 

 

<http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/121/9/a/untitled_by_bennucciacartuccia-d63pxe2.jpg>

(Jack says: "Did... did you see us?", Tooth says: "Well, certainly you can't say you were hiding!")

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 13th chapter will be published on Monday or before! (probably before ^^). Feel free to leave me a comment, if you want to, and have a nice day ^^


	13. Chapter 13

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 13**

 

 

 

It had passed almost two months since Jack had declared his love for Pitch and the boy often found himself thinking with satisfaction about how their relationship had developed. Initially it had been a little tense, because the man was still clearly embarrassed during the sweet moments they spent together and he had always tried to evade the cuddles he received, but it took just a bit of patient perseverance to gradually calm him, until he had felt completely comfortable with the situation: after few weeks they had started to meet each other regularly and they had passed several hours together, talking of this and that, telling each other what they had done in the previous days, exploring some new and wonderful places of the Earth, exchanging endearments and languid caresses or simply lying in each other's arms, in a silence more meaningful than any word.

They had never agreed on these encounters, which took place in different locations and, often, seemingly by chance, but actually they both knew they had missed each other, voluntarily sought for a long time and smiled with joy and relief when they had seen, in the distance, the silhouette of the beloved partner. The Boogeyman, of course, had never admitted he had felt longing, nor had answered to the first "I love you" and those who were followed yet, but he had indirectly and continually showed his love: every kiss, every thoughtful gesture, every benevolent teasing and every look full of feeling cried aloud what he still didn't have the lucidity and the courage to say, and for the boy this almost unconscious way of communicating affection was more than enough to feel special.

It was so beautiful and satisfying, for him, sitting in Pitch's lap, resting his face on his warm chest, whose heart throbbed and was always magically at the same pace of his, and letting his thin but strong arms encircle him, and he was missing that possessive hug for such a long time that he almost suffered when he thought about it. In fact, until now, ten days had passed since they had met the last time, and the blame for this, if this could be defined “blame”, was on Jack: he had been spending a whole week working in the realm of Toothiana. Since she had collected more than ten billion chests the graceful and colourful structures which contained them, in fact, had been slowly filled up, becoming insufficient for all the children of the world, and Santa Claus had promptly volunteered to design a new building for that purpose; once he had finished the project he had offered his help and his yetis' one for the construction, and the boy, eternally grateful to the fairy for all the understanding she had showed him, hadn't backed down.

Because of this he had been continuously taken up with odd jobs of all kinds, from arranging the beams to passing materials to the hairy giants, from carrying paint to reassure Toothiana, who was at the same time worried and excited, often assisted by Sandman and never free enough to be able to take a real break. He hadn't seen the man, but he was sure he had looked for him, because more than once he had clearly felt his gaze on himself: he had longed to call him in those moments, but certainly the Boogeyman would have quickly withdrawn, hiding from all eyes and fleeing away, fearing to be seen by somebody.

Frost smiled as he placed some decorative tiles: Pitch could be really clever with the others, but when he had to reflect on himself perspicacity wasn't his strength. He hadn't understood his mission in the world yet, or, also, how the Guardians considered him, especially when he didn't despotically exerted his powers, but, most of all, he hadn't realized yet that these, except for Bunnymund, were now aware of their relationship and they didn't contest nor hinder it.

Inevitably he thought about how they had discovered that special bond and he blushed a little: that time he had really feared to feel sick. Everything had happened about a month and a half before: along with Toothiana and Sandman, the boy had come to Santa Claus' Palace, in order to discuss the necessary improvements the teeth caskets' structures needed; after they had established every particular they had stayed all together next to the fireplace, telling each other the adventures they had experienced recently, and the fairy had suddenly exclaimed: "Uh, yes, yes, I have a news: Jack and Pitch are a couple!"; hearing those words Frost had been petrified, literally stopping to breathe and raising a look full of fear to his friends.

The first to react was Sandman: the man had raised his thumbs and, deftly shaping his golden sand, he had created over his head the image of himself flying in the sky, and, below it, the silhouettes of Pitch and Jack kissing, making clear he had already caught them together. Then it had been the turn of North, who, looking him up and down from head to toe, he got up from the stool on which he sat, grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him from the ground up to take it few inches from his furrowed forehead, and, piercing his eyes full of terror, he said: "So, Jack... you found a fiancé!”.

At that statement they all burst into laughter, except for the boy, who had slid to the floor on his knees, trembling and holding his face in his hands in a vain attempt to control the panic which had assailed him. Fortunately Toothiana had immediately rushed to his aid, supporting him as she made him stand up and guiding him to a comfortable chair where, with sweet words, she had apologized, confessing that she actually knew that the others were already aware of the news and that she had told it only to ensure that, from that moment, they could speak about it freely and without shame. Still shaken Frost had let her hug him and he hadn't had the strength to retort nor to get embarrassed when Santa Claus had made jokes about the fact that Pitch would have certainly got terribly jealous if he had seen them together like that.

Several minutes later he had finally pulled himself together and, with a faltering voice, he had managed to ask the present Guardians if they really didn't consider his relationship with the Boogeyman a problem; when he had received a positive answer he had said goodbye and flown with difficulty to the den of his lover, willing to tell him everything and ask him to console him, but he had found only an empty room. Exhausted by the agitation he had huddled up on the bed and immediately fallen asleep, and the kisses with which the man had awakened him had soon made him forget all his troubles; then, when, few days later, that episode had occurred to him again, he had decided not to tell Pitch, curious to see if he was able to find it out by himself.

Considered his reticence, however, it was now clear that he wouldn't have easily guessed this thing, so the boy had promised himself to reveal him everything once Bunnymund would have been aware of that, too; that day, however, continued to be postponed, because the Pooka had long been busy to rearrange his warren after the last failing Easter, and he hadn't given his news, except for some brief and sporadic encounter, for several months. It would be surely necessary plenty of calm and tranquillity to tell him the news, because he was the one who had suffered most for the last Boogeyman's attack, and, at least initially, he would have probably reacted with disbelief and anger, so Jack had decided to patiently wait for the right opportunity and not get anxious.

Soon he realized that he had finished the decorative tiles, so he glided down to the base of the structure to take others of them; he quickly grabbed a handful of them and, suddenly, he was spellbound: by mistake a tessera hadn't been completely painted and, under the light of the sun, it had exactly the same iridescent colour of Pitch's eyes. Dark veins of the metal base leaked irregularly in the varnish, more intense on one side and more muted on the other one, just as in his beautiful irises the black tentacles gathered in the peripheral zone and tapered around the pupils, creating a perfect shade from darkness to light. Frost would have never got tired of getting lost in that wonderful look, which could amaze him every time for its fickle beauty, and, inevitably, the image of the man he loved took shape in his mind. He missed him so much... he could almost perceive him in front of himself: he saw him kneeling, gently grabbing him by the shoulders and drawing him in his arms, so he could smell his intense scent; he felt him tickling his jugular with his nose and getting closer, and he opened a little his mouth, holding his breath with expectation: he had just to wait a little more and he would have felt his lips pressing on his own...

A sudden clash abruptly tore it from his daydream, alarming him to the point he leapt away, scared, dropping the tiles he was carrying in his hand; panting to pull himself together he looked around and, a few inches from the point where he had been a moment before, he spotted a big hammer he didn't remember he had seen when he had landed. Immediately, from above, North reached him and, with his booming voice, he asked: «Jack! What's the matter? I warned you I was throwing the hammer! It's all day you are distracted, what swirls around in head of yours?».

While Jack hesitated, trying to put together an answer, Sandman and Toothiana rushed there, too, worried, and the fairy replied: «Oh, North, what a silly question, it is obvious that he's thinking about Pitch: he hasn't been meeting him for more than a week!».

Immediately the little Bringer of dreams created on his head a Boogeyman's silhouette surrounded by little hearts, and Santa Claus exclaimed: «Oh, Jack, you miss your fiancé?».

«Come on, when will you cut it out? I do not think about him all the time!» snapped the boy, trying in vain to defend himself; then he continued: «And then Pitch is not my "fiancé", North! Try to think about what would happen if he heard you!».

«Ah, there would be no problem» said North with a relaxed voice, making the gesture to drive something away with his hand, as if to show that there was no reason to worry.

Puzzled Frost ventured: «And why would there be no problem?».

«Easy! I call him like that only when you are around, so, in case, Pitch would be too distracted by your presence to pay attention to my nicknames» concluded the man with a serious tone.

«Phew, and I even expected a serious answer! Come on, stop prying into matters which are not your responsibilities and let's all go back to work: it won't take long and it would be better to finish it quickly, wouldn't it?» suggested the boy at once, trying to change the subject.

At the sound of those words Toothiana smiled, thoughtful, then, flying close to him, she murmured in a soft voice: «Jack, you've been very kind to help us and we thank you very much for what you've done, but we can finish on our own, especially considered the building is almost complete. Do not worry, my Palace is always here and you can admire it ended when you want, but I know you miss Pitch. You haven't seen him for days and days: it is unfair to keep you here, so just go».

«But...» weakly tried to protest Jack, longing to see his partner again and soon, but afraid to look like a slacker in the eyes of the Guardians.

«Oh, Jack, come on, just go, do not waste your time! Aren't you yearning to hug him?» asked the fairy.

«Or to give him a kiss?» demanded North, winking.

Sandman, as usual, didn't speak, but he sent him a mischievous look that was more eloquent than any word, and a simple swirl of a handful of sand on his head was more than enough to make Jack guess how he would have finished the climax. Turning pale at the idea that the little man could finish to shape the magic sand in time the boy turned around, hastily grabbed his staff from the ground and he said goodbye while he flew away.

«Okay, okay, I got it: I'll go! Thank you, and see you soon!».

«Goodbye, Jack, see you soon! Pitch is on the borders of my kingdom, in the usual place!» shouted Toothiana.

Despite the laughter of Santa Claus had almost drowned out her words, Frost was able to hear them anyway and he lost height, blushing in realizing the fairy had understood them so deeply she even knew the places where they usually met.

He had to admit to himself, the Guardians had reacted in a totally unexpected way: reassured by the woman, he had never really feared their refusal, but certainly he hadn't expected such an interest, nor such an abundant blooming of jokes and malicious allusions. He had hoped that the work at the Tooth Palace would have distracted them, but evidently it hadn't been enough as a distraction: he would have had to wait for a more striking event to happen, such as to eclipse the rumours about himself and the Boogeyman. Actually he knew that the others hold the interest hoping that Bunnymund would have showed up in those moments, in order to relieve themselves from the concern of telling him the news as soon as possible, but he didn't doubt even for a second that they greatly enjoyed teasing him and seeing him blushing all the time.

Shaking his head, amused, and thinking about a way to answer the Guardians in kind when they had been met again, Jack finally saw the hidden clearing he was looking for, and it was with a laugh of joy that he sped up to reach it, seeing a tiny dark silhouette he had yearned for long getting bigger and bigger.

 

 

The Boogeyman was in a nice, little clearing at the borders of Toothiana kingdom, his legs comfortably stretched out on the mossy ground and his back limply leaned against the curved trunk of a cherry tree. He looked around, bored: the irregular open space was surrounded by flowering trees, which stretched out their branches as if they were seeking each other, intertwining to form a leafy canopy that let the sun rays pass only in small bursts; on the highest part of this small clearing there was a crystal clear spring, whose water cheerfully gushed, collecting in a deep pool and then quietly bubbling away, disappearing into the undergrowth. Every little detail was so beautiful it could take the viewer's breath away and make him stood still for hours in contemplation, bewitched, everything was perfect, shady enough for Pitch and cool enough for Jack, but this marvel, for the man, was completely meaningless in the absence of the boy. After all, how could the smells of those brightly coloured blooms not seem banal when compared to his scent? How could the touch of those mossy pads be pleasant when compared to the softness of his skin? And why should he revel in looking at that babbling brook, when he could get lost in the infinite purity of his blue eyes?

He would have never admitted it in front of anyone, but he had to confess to himself that he missed him: ten day had passed since their last encounter, and this separation was becoming more and more painful. In order to soothe the suffering he had looked for him several times, but his travels had always ended at Toothiana's Palace: the Guardian was enlarging it, and Frost helped her hard, doing any kind of odd job.

Oh, how much he desired to burst into the construction site, even only to steal him a kiss! But he couldn't do it: the other Guardians were always around and they would have certainly attacked him before he could reach him; of course he could have attacked them first and kidnap him, but for sure, after such an action, the boy wouldn't have behaved gently and thoughtfully with him, so he had decided to swallow the nostalgia and bite the bullet, enduring the separation with increasing anger and sadness, confining himself to merely observe him from afar, in order to satisfy, if not the heart, at least his eyes.

Now, however, his patience had reached its end: he had mentally given him time until that night to get out of that chaotic place, full of fluttering fairies and small teeth, and reach him. If this hadn't happened he would have moved to pick him up, in one way or the other he would have brought him with himself, and, when he would have been alone with him, he would catch up on lost time, and he would have taught him not to ever go away for such a long time. Jack was his, his and only his: he shouldn't dare to put him aside for so long and because of reasons so trivial.

At the thought he had been forgotten he snorted, and it seemed to him that the sigh echoed in far too long in the clearing: curious he looked around, searching for the source of what, now, seemed to be clearly a rustle, and he spotted few meters away a bunny, shining and white as snow, which wandered through the small ferns, lightly moving them with his nose.

Pitch didn't almost have the time to recognize it that he felt something brushing against his cheek and then sliding down until it reached the corner of his mouth: two lips, thin, but soft, which had been his torment in the days spent in solitude; immediately he turned his head and found himself in front of Frost, clearly amused by the little joke he had played on him and still hanging upside down from a branch of the cherry tree.

Trying to hide the smile which he had spontaneously given at the sight of the person he had desired so much, the man burst out: «Jack, you're still the same idiot!».

Laughing the interlocutor hooked his staff to another branch, he hung on it and, leaving it dangling, he jumped down, crouching in his lap and saying in a soft voice: «Oh, Pitch, I've missed you so much, too».

Trying in vain to dodge the hug in which the other was wrapping him, Pitch replied: «I've never said that I missed you, in fact I didn't».

«Mh, you're still the same rude. Do what you want, at any rate I know you missed me: I perceived you when you came to look for me» provoked him the boy, rubbing his cheek against his chest and started to emit a low and vibrating sound from the throat.

«I was just passing there on personal business... Jack, what are you doing?» asked the man, puzzled.

«Purring» said Jack, promptly, pausing just long enough to utter the sentence.

«I'll never understand you» said the Boogeyman, however, beginning to stroke him on his back as he would have done with a kitten.

The boy went on a little longer, then he whispered: «Come on, Pitch, don't be heartless, I know what you want to do... Give it to me, come on...».

Thanking his lucky stars for his grey skin and, so, for his inability to blush, Pitch swallowed and, trying to pull himself together, he replied: «Oh, really? You've become so bold now, haven't you, ardent colt?».

«You idiot!» addressed him Frost.

For a moment he hid his face against his collarbone, clearly embarrassed, but, after bravely raising his head despite his reddened cheeks flushed, he asked with a sweet look: «Can you give me a kiss?».

The man said nothing, merely staring at him in the eyes while he touched with fingers light as a feather his left cheek; with almost unbearable slowness he get closer and closer, until he could feel their breaths stirring and become one, and only in that moment he put his lips on his ones. At first he just pressed a little, almost afraid to break the dream he was living; that soft skin, however, was real, it was warming himself under his gentle touch and quivering with anticipation of receiving something more, and he didn't denied it to him: with his tongue he made him open his mouth and he slid it inside it, drawing his one in a tender kiss that became more and more passionate. With rapture he hugged him, holding him tightly, as if he didn't want to ever let him go, and laying his right hand on his neck to guide him, and he sighed feeling the other doing the same, while the small, sharp crystals of his hoodie adhered to his chest. Oh, how long he had missed those encounters, how much nostalgia he had felt for those moments when their bodies and their souls merged to become one! No, he would have never allowed him disappear for such a long period again, at the cost of chasing and capturing him he would have made him return more often, and now he would have made him pay for that prolonged absence, in a way which he could have easily remembered in the next months and which would have persuaded him to never behave like that again.

Strengthening the grip on his neck he bit his lower lip, immediately starting to kiss him again with passion, but something tickled his neck, to the point it forced him to stop and turn around: Jack's bunny was resting on his shoulder and, absorbed, he was sniffing his carotid artery, drawing it with his whiskers as he followed it up to his earlobe.

With a tone half annoyed and half amused he said: «Jack, your rabbit is playing gooseberry».

In response the boy laughed and exclaimed: «It 's true, but I had to give it to you: while I was coming here I remembered that you forgot to keep him on Christmas Eve».

«Keep it? Why?».

«What do you mean with "why"? It was your gift! Come on, take it! You just need to let it lay on your palm and close the hand» encouraged him Frost with a smile.

«Do not be stupid, it will never work» countered Pitch.

«Sometimes you can reach heights of pride that no one could ever reach, you know?» taunted the boy, then he continued: «If you reciprocate, as you should do with the gifts, I'll show you how to do it: come on, shape a bunny for me!».

Too stunned by the request to retort the Boogeyman didn't even think and, focusing, he evoked the magic sand, shaping it to try to create a rabbit: the result was a creature harmonious and well-proportioned, but frightening, its bony body from which the ribs strongly stuck out, its legs longer than the ones of a normal rodent and adorned with sharp claws, its skull narrow, its pointed teeth bared in a grin, its eyes sickly yellow coloured and its worn ears aggressively pricked up.

At that sight Jack laughed, amused, and he commented: «Oh, Pitch, I appreciate the effort and I have to admit that, however, it looks like a hare, but it is terribly scary! Couldn't you just create something more plump and sweet? It seems that this creature wants to bite anything within its jaws reach!».

Piqued the man answered: «What a silly question, Jack, of course I couldn't! I am the Boogeyman, not the little Bringer of Dreams: my task is terrorizing and whatever I produce is frightening, as it should be. I have to inspire fear, not affection: "plump and sweet" things don't suit me».

«Mh, no one would know that: you're so sweet when you cuddle me» whispered the boy.

«Do not play with fire, Jack! My work is my only goal, the reason why I am in the world and the reason why the world hates me, I do not accept nor criticism or teasing about it!» warned him the Boogeyman with an angry tone.

«Pitch, nobody hates you...» tried to speak Frost, but was immediately interrupted.

«Oh, sure, right, everyone loves the Boogeyman, from the small children who can barely feed themselves on their own to the minor spirits to the Guardians, am I wrong? It 'so obvious, how couldn't I notice I am surrounded by such a crowd of admirers? Maybe my lair is so huge that all of them got lost when they came to visit me, thank me and tell me how much they love me?» said Pitch with a sarcastic tone.

«Listen to me, instead of reacting without even thinking, and be aware that you would have already known everything that I'll tell you now if only you hadn't created around you a shield of pride and hate even more impenetrable than your armour of Nightmares!» vehemently replied the boy.

He paused for a moment, sighing and turning his look from angry to sad, then he murmured: «I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so abrupt: I'm sorry for my rude answer. It's just that you're so stubborn, and you become so impossible and deaf when I talk about this! If only you pondered with a clear mind you would spare yourself a lot of suffering. I was not lying earlier: nobody hates you. Maybe some kids, it's possible, but it's only a temporary feeling, caused by the great fear of the moment. I can assure you, however, that the Guardians do not hate you: do you know why? You are as useful as them. Oh, sure, it's great being a child, dreaming, having fun, wondering at every little thing, and it is right to keep at least part of this attitude for all the life, but, sooner or later, every human being needs to mature and become an adult, and how could they if they don't face their fears? Those few children who hate you for a short time do that because you put an end to the idyll, because you force them to leave the protected nest where their parents brought them up to face the world, but this is as it should be: a cycle must be established, each of them must grow, have children and protect them, to make them spend a beautiful childhood, until the time comes for them to mature. Nobody can be young forever, there are so many adventures to experience in life, and none of the Guardians can introduce them to it: you're the only one who can. You are an irreplaceable creature, a protector just like us, only with different connotations, and with a different task, darker, at times, but equally necessary».

Pitch froze at the sound of those words: never in his whole life he had come to a similar conclusion. He had always considered himself as an outcast, as a scourge whose task was hurting the world and that, because of this, suffered in turn: he had never thought that there was a reason why he existed except of causing pain, and, above all, he had never believed he could be invaluable for the children he tormented. Was that really his task? Could his scary Nightmares drive the small humans from infancy to maturity?

Thrilled he didn't have the strength to oppose to those claims his usual, instinctive refusal, and he had to admit that the Guardians, all the times he had been defeated, had always let him escape and, even if they perfectly knew the location of his lair, they had never attacked him, to destroy him once and for all. Yet...

«You're just saying a bunch of nonsense, Jack: every time I encounter the Guardians they look at me with hatred and they attack me» remarked the Boogeyman.

«Be sincere, who do attack first, them or you? Anyway, that's not the point of the question: until now you've always met the Guardians while you were doing battle to conquer the world, and this is wrong. You are important, but there must be a balance: if children didn't have anything to believe in and they were just full of fear they would be crippled, victims of what they fear, and they would never grow up! I can assure you that, if I you met Sandman or Toothiana in a quiet period, when you free just few Nightmares at a time, they would surely send you kind words. Trust me, they know how hard your work is and they sadden for you, but you have never let them soothe your suffering. If you do not want to let them I understand you, and they understand you, too, but, at least, allow me to make you happy: I beg you» said Jack with a sweet tone.

The man hesitated, petrified, trying to respond rudely as always, but impressed by the discovery and the undeniable kindness of the boy; the partner, in order to get him out of the embarrassment, gave him a little kiss, then he whispered: «Let's see if I can make your gift a little prettier».

Turning he stretched out his left hand toward the scary creature and, ignoring his growls, he put his index finger on his head: immediately small coils of ice rose from that point, completely wrapping the animal in a ball of light that exploded in millions of tiny fragments. When the sparkling dust cleared the beautiful being which had been transformed showed itself: a magnificent hare, restless in its continuous flicking the muscles of the legs, its muzzle still pronounced and a bit angular, but not aggressive yet, its big ears raised to listen to the sounds around it and its golden eyes always on the move, covered from head to paws with a soft black fur, which became lighter on the ends. A magnificent beast, mighty and proud as Pitch, but sweet and beautiful as Frost.

The boy rested his hand on the ground, with the palm facing up, and, when the hare came on it, he clenched the fist, dissolving it; soon after, however, making a soft gesture with his arm, he made it reappear.

Chuckling he turned back to Pitch and exclaimed: «Come on, it's your turn to try».

With a puzzled and annoyed look the Boogeyman did what he was asked: as he had imagined the bunny disappeared, destroyed by his grasp, but, as soon as he waved his forearm to prove that the trick did not work, it showed himself again. Incredulous he stared at it, open-mouthed: it wasn't the same as before, some black sand had leaked into the hair, darkening his muzzle, paws and ears, and, overall, it looked less pretty and innocent and more mature and shrewd; however, he had not lost that pure beauty which characterized it, and, above all, he still had those crystal blue irises, which shone like two sapphires and remind him so much those of his little snowflake.

«We are two months late, but at least we exchanged the Christmas gift! Thank you, Pitch. Now, however, two fifth wheel are too much, don't you think so?» remarked Jack, winking.

Without further ado he recalled his hare, but the man noticed a sudden shadow and, frightened, he quickly grabbed the boy's hand to protect him. Soon, however, he realized that he had worried about nothing scary: on the inner part of Frost's wrist a dark spot had formed and it was because of this that he had unnecessary alarmed himself.

«When did you get this, Jack?» he asked, suspiciously.

«I think we should “blame” your gift» replied the boy with a smile; «I bet you have one, too».

With a gesture the Boogeyman absorbed again that spirit of ice and, looking down at his right arm, he noticed a small clear halo, shaped like a snowflake, exactly on the same point Jack had his one.

«In this way you'll remember me even when I'll be away» commented the boy.

«Speaking about being away, these days you have..» tried to say Pitch, but his partner put two fingers on his lips and looked around, in alarm.

«Someone is coming» murmured Frost in a serious voice.

With a leap he flew on a branch of the blossom cherry to see farther, he shadowed his eyes from the sun with his right hand and, few seconds later, he exclaimed: «Oh, it's Bunnymund! Damn, he haven't shown himself for weeks and, of course, he appears now! I think he heard us. Get ready: he's the only one who doesn't know anything yet».

«What? What do you mean with "he's the only one who doesn't know anything yet”?» asked the man, dumbfounded.

The boy laid comfortably on the tree, where all the fronds branched from the trunk, and Pitch didn't have time to receive an answer: a faint rustle made him turn around, and, few feet far from himself, he saw the Pooka, who, without hesitation, threw him one of his deadly boomerang.

With a quick movement of the arm the Boogeyman evoked a Nightmare, which, faster than light, caught on the fly the weapon with his teeth, breaking it with a snap of his jaws; in response the Easter Bunny stared at him with hatred and tried to outdraw the other boomerang, but between the two fighters it interposed Jack, who, with a leap, grabbed his staff and intervened to pull them apart.

«Enough!» he shouted to stop them.

«Jack, for all the Tasmanian devils, what are you doing? Stay back and give me a hand!» cried Bunnymund.

«No! Rather, tell me what you're doing! Why did you come here and attack Pitch without even saying hello”?» replied the boy.

«What questions are they? He's Pitch, this is a more than sufficient reason to attack him! Anyway, I came to help you, he was going to assault you!» justified himself the Guardian, amazed.

«You're lying: he was just looking at me, if only you hadn't rushed so precipitously you would have noticed that» contested Frost, angrily.

«The fact remains that he is the Boogeyman! Jack, you 're a Guardian, you should fight him, not defend him, what did you get in mind?» asked Bunnymund, amazed.

«That's not the truth! I have to fight him when he threatened the children, but when he keeps quiet I do not have the right to attack him! Look at him: does he look like someone who's going to harm me? He didn't even reacted to your unprovoked aggression» pointed out the boy.

The Pooka pricked up his ears and opened wide his eyes, tripped, and he looked at the Boogeyman who, meanwhile, had stood motionless, even dissolving the Nightmare he had evoked to protect himself; the man returned him the glance, staring at him with a gaze full of resentment and a little hurt by the aggression, even more unexpected after Jack's statements, then he said: «See that? He hates me and, as the good Guardian he is, he doesn't miss opportunity to try to weaken me and make me disappear off the face. Ah, forget it. Anyway, it's useless trying to argue with a rabbit, moreover so dull».

«Pitch, don't you start, too!» scolded him the boy, then he continued: «Bunnymund, you've been so unfair when you attacked him: Pitch hadn't done anything wrong to you. If you are not able to stay in this clearing and act with him in a civil manner I ask you to leave».

«Wait, what? Leave? It should be me the one who has to go away? He's the Boogeyman, _he_ should go away! You're a Guardian and you have to stay with the Guardians, he, on the contrary, must stay alone» stubbornly replied the Easter Bunny.

At the sound of those words the man bared his teeth and took a step forward, but something stopped him: Frost had thrown his staff away and he had hugged him, staring at him with a kind look that begged him to ignore those cruel words and let the matter drop. Certainly it didn't suit with him overlooking similar offences, but he understood the reason of his request: the boy wanted to avoid a confrontation in order not to postpone their encounter again, and Pitch, well remembering the nostalgia which had tormented him so much during the previous days, decided to oblige him. With a sigh he relaxed, he put his arms around his shoulders until he laid his cheek on his chest and he began to caress his hair, absently, enjoying the smile which, without doubt, had risen on his lips.

An incredulous voice, however, broke down the romance.

«Jack, what are you doing!? Are you crazy? He will kill you!» cried Bunnymund.

«No, he won't. I've spent time with him and he has never hurt me» said Jack with a calm tone.

In response, the Pooka froze, stunned, and Pitch got into his head a way to tease him and make him go away. With an expression full of mock regret he provoked him: «Oh, nice bunny, are you jealous?».

«J-jealous, me? Are you kidding me?» replied the Easter Bunny, dumbfounded.

«Oh, but it just seems so» continued the Boogeyman.

Without further ado he broke the hug and, pushing the boy aside, he stealthily walked toward the interlocutor, looking him straight in the eyes with a little grin, deliberately letting the two edges of the robe sliding a little to deepen the neckline.

With a provocative tone he murmured: «Do you want a hug and some cuddles, too? Would you like them? Yes... you have such a beautiful fur, I bet I would find it so soft if I stroked it».

At this point of the speech he had almost reached him, making him back up to adhere, with his back, against a tree: he slowly put his right hand on the bark, next to his arm, as if to make him feel trapped; then he lifted his chin a little and calmly slid the irises on his body, as if he wanted to undress him with his eyes from the fur that covered him; finally, in a hoarse voice, he whispered: «Would you like a scratch behind the ears? Or, maybe, would you prefer it a little further down?».

Seeing Pitch sensually biting his lower lip after that sequence of provocation was too much for Bunnymund; with a jump the Pooka moved out of his reach, and, with a trembling voice, he asked: «J- Jack...? Are you sure you want to stay here alone? Are you sure that nothing will happen to you?».

«Yes, Bunnymund: do not worry» reassured him Frost.

«Well! Well, yes, so, so I 'm going away, ok? If you are in need I'll be at Toothiana's Palace with the other Guardians! Call us... call us if you need help! I'll leave!».

Said that the Easter Bunny hopped away, running maybe a little more quickly than usual, and soon he disappeared in the forest.

With a derisive laugh the man turned, walking toward the boy and sarcastically commenting: «What a fearless and brave Guardian is that Pooka!».

Jack, however, completely ignored the teasing: he picked up his staff and, staring at his eyes, he asked, serious: «Pitch, would you really do those things with someone else?».

Instantly the Boogeyman stopped and, with a horrified look, he cried: «For all the shadows, Jack, it would be like _mate_ with a rabbit! There are nightmares that even I can not bear!».

He shivered again at the thought, he shook his shoulders to recover and then he went one step further, but the boy struck the ground with his staff, evoking a temporary sheet of ice and making him slipping. The man didn't even have the time to realize what had happened that he found himself lying on the ground, with Frost sitting on his stomach; he tried to get up, but the partner grabbed his wrists, blocking them at the sides of his face and getting closer, then, with his expression and his voice distorted by anger, he said: « _You didn't answer to me_ ».

At the sound of that last simple, but harsh, sentence, Pitch clearly felt shivers of fear going down his spine, and he swallowed, scared.

 

 

 

New fanart by littleivor!  
  
<http://littleivor.tumblr.com/post/106471219220/for-you-cianethedevil-dearest-i-hope-it-is-to>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ^^ next chapter will be published on Tuesday evening (Italian time zone)
> 
> WARNING: I'm really sorry I didn't write Bunnymund's speeches in Australian, but I'm not able to do that: I don't speak Australian. A friend told me that, in the end, you can distinguish Austrialian from English only thanks to the accent, so I decided to publish this chapter using the "normal" english, and I'll do the same with all the chapters in which Bunnymund will talk. I hope you'll forgive me. Of course, if you speak Australian and you want to help me, I'll be really happy to receive suggestions and/or revision of that parts ^^


	14. Chapter 14

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 14**

 

 

 

« _You didn't answer to me_ ».

That simple sentence was more than enough to make the Boogeyman shiver with fear: Jack had spoken with a rage that the man would have never imagined could belong to him, and he seemed well determined not to let the matter drop quickly or easily. Suddenly Pitch had an intuition and, with an amused tone, he commented: «Jack, don' tell me you're jealous».

«And what if I do?» replied the boy.

Without getting agitated he tightened a little more the grip on his wrists, then he rushed at him: he bit his lip hard, forcing him to open them, and he violently slid his tongue in them, seeking his one and dominating on that kiss stolen with urgency and passion.

The man, mentally, smiled: he didn't know well that possessive and a bit violent side of Frost, which, hitherto, had showed itself only during the most exciting moments of their embraces, when the partner could hug him tightly and scratch him uncontrollably. He didn't try to deny to himself that he liked it, not even for a moment: feeling him on himself, focused on trapping him to block him while he firmly guided him in a languid union, made him shivering; however, letting him tacking over the helm and interpreting the role of the pray certainly didn't suit him, so he sighed with relief when he saw him move away far enough to be able to stare at his eyes.

With a grin he watched him catching his breath and he got ready to reverse the positions, but he noticed he was about to speak, so he decided to leave him few more seconds.

«You know, Pitch» murmured the boy with a mischievous look, tickling him with the tip of his nose along his jawline; «You always tell me that I'm yours, yours and only yours, but you forget something».

«What?» instinctively asked the Boogeyman, confused.

«That is true for you, too: you are mine, mine and mine only» whispered Jack directly into his ear.

Pitch almost didn't have the time to completely understand the sentence that he felt an intense cold on his forearms, and, when he tried to move them, he realized that the other had frozen them, blocking them against the ground. In a panic he tried to free himself, but he only got an amused expression from the boy, so, in a broken voice, he demanded: «Jack, what the hell is wrong with you!?».

«Oh, trust me, Pitch: you will like it» answered the boy with a sensual and soft tone.

Not reassured at all by the promise the man fidgeted even more, completely forgetting that he could free himself evoking few handfuls of magic sand and foolishly trying to break the ice tugging; not worried by those vain attempts Frost smiled and put his hands on the base of his neck.

Instantly the Boogeyman stiffened: he felt the other evoking that icy power with which, few months before, on two occasions, he had made him fall at his feet, helpless, and he couldn't help but surrender to it for the third time, arching his back to follow those slender fingers which redrew his neckline and barely holding back a groan.

Evidently panting he felt him moving, so to make their pelvises match, and, hearing the noise of a rip, he realized that the partner had opened his robe, tearing the only closure point on the waist and brushing aside the two edges to expose the chest. Pitch felt his open palms gently caressing his bare skin and his soft mouth sliding along the sternum, in an endless series of wet kisses, and, unconsciously, he went up to him, sighing for that hot chills which crossed him, being conveyed to the groin and heating it more and more.

By a great force of will he finally managed to pull himself together just enough to make the situation: he, the Lord of Nightmares himself, centuries and centuries old and born to conquer and command, was pinned down to the ground, trapped under a young Guardian and intent to moan like an inexperienced kid, even looking for his attentions to have more? It was, at the very least, unacceptable!

Ranking together all his strength he pulled his back against the moss below, to escape from Frost's touch, then, staring at him with an angry look, he ordered: «Jack, lea... _ah!_ ».

Pitch couldn't believe the audacity of his partner, who, hearing him starting to talk, had not only bitten a sensitive spot just below his left nipple, but also grabbed with decision his cock through the fabric, and every intent to push him away was lost; trying to hold back the sighs he endured his languid tortures, focusing in order not to definitely lose his mind and struggling to keep his eyes open, despite the view was getting more and more blurred.

Amused by that passive resistance Jack chuckled, then, with a sensual tone, he whispered: «Oh, Pitch, how I can satisfy you if you don't conclude your sentences? I will try to guess: maybe you meant... “lick me”?».

Hearing those two words the Boogeyman opened wide his irises and tried to raise his head, but he was too slow; with his heart in his throat he perceived the boy moving further down and ripping his trousers: at first he felt cold in the groin, and then... _hot_. A hotness he had had the pleasure of giving several times, but never received.

Caught by surprise he groaned and he had to bite his lip to hold back the astonishment: Frost had bent down without any hesitation over his lower abdomen and he had stuck out his tongue, slowly passing it along his erection, from the base to the tip, and tickling him with the warmth of his breath.

Holding his breath he felt him returning back, leaving little, soft kisses on every inch of skin and lingering on the spots which made him shiver more, then going up slowly, carefully licking the sensitive areas; finally, it happened what he dreamed about for months, but he had never had the courage to ask or impose him, fearing to force him.

The boy opened his mouth and, trembling a little, he caught the erection; he proceeded calmly, taking all the time he needed to get used to that novelty and learn the right moves: at first he wrapped between his lips just the tip, probing with his tongue the tense skin to locate the main nerves, then he followed them down, getting more and more confident with them. He never enveloped the cock to the base, probably he wasn't even able to do that, but he knew very well how make up for it with his slender fingers: now relaxed he started to suck with greater conviction, sensually rubbing the soft palate against the erection and faintly scratching it with his sharp teeth, with such a mixture of naive curiosity and innate skill to steal Pitch more than few gasps.

Bewitched by those feelings so desired the man unconsciously began to push himself towards the partner, following his sinuous movements and trying to impose him the pace he would have liked to set by grabbing his nape; despite the forced immobility, however, he couldn't be angry because he had been trapped so easily: the constraints and the fact that he couldn't see Jack as he diligently carried on with his work did nothing but increase the pleasure.

Suddenly he felt him tighten more firmly his fingers around the erection and he instinctively opened his thighs to follow the chills: with a tug he freed his right leg and he heard the boy moaning, surprised and worried, but he didn't give him time to react. Groping he put his calf on his back, carefully not weighting on it, but pressing enough to make him understand that he wanted him to go on, and this was an encouragement more than enough for Frost. With a languid sigh he pick up the pace a little, caressing the inner thigh with his left hand and eagerly taking his cock until it touched his soft throat, ignoring the choking feeling which, with no doubt, he was experiencing and sending him all the passion he felt with every sensual lap.

Overwhelmed by the rapture with which Jack courted him and by his, now, expert attentions the Boogeyman realized he was close to the limit and, fearing the other didn't want to go the whole way, he decided to forewarn him; with great effort he moved his leg and cried as a warning: «Nh, Jack...!».

In response the boy clutched his right buttock and firmly clenched his lips, continuing to deftly stimulate him with the tongue, and this mute confirmations that his dream would have been completely fulfilled was, for the man, the last drop that made that jar full of pleasure overflow.

With a low and satisfied groan he came, arching his back to follow the shivers of the orgasm, but ensuring not to push himself towards his partner in order not to choke him, and, although he was a bit embarrassed to show himself like that, with no physical or psychological shield, completely exposed and at the mercy of Frost, he tried not to restrain himself: he perfectly knew how the boy found it irresistible, and allowing him it was the least since he had received such a gift, even only to tell him how he had appreciated it.

He stood tense for a moment, then he collapsed on the ground, his eyes lost in the patches of lights and shadows of the clearing at his right as he panted to pull himself together; he perceived the boy raising with difficulty and crawling up to sit on his stomach and, feeling him caressing his cheek, he turned to look at him.

Jack wasn't much in a condition better than his: his beautiful crystalline eyes were opacified, his breath hurried, his muscles trembling and his head a bit dangling, as if he had not sufficient strength to support it; despite this the languid way with which he ran his tongue over his moist lips seemed to imply that what he had just done hadn't been enough, and the expression on his face, although it was weary, was also amused.

With a grin Pitch asked: «What is it, Jack? Do you enjoy seeing me in this condition?».

In response the boy chuckled and replied: «A little. But I laughed for another reason».

«What?» asked the man, puzzled.

Bending over him to reach his left ear Frost whispered: «You taste like nightshade: I should have guessed it».

Then, slowly moving his palms over his forearms, he recalled the ice and, with a sob, he collapsed on his chest, exhausted.

Finally free Pitch stretched his arms and wrapped them around the partner's thorax, keeping silent, but sending with that gesture of gratitude that pride prevented him from expressing in words. He had to admit to himself: his little snowflake could always amaze him. He would have never expected the boy to make a scene of jealousy from him, or to take over the helm like that, going so far as to immobilize him just to get from him what he wanted; beyond that, he would have never imagined that Jack would have dared to slide his silky mouth right there, and that he would have used it so well. He chuckled a little at the thought: the boy could be really resourceful, in every sense, and even if his appearance made him look, at first glance, innocent and naïve, it was enough to give a second and more careful look at his smile to discover in it the curious and cheerful mischief which characterized him.

Taking a deep breath he began to stroke his neck and back, and he was surprised to hear Jack shudder for a touch so light and not very intimate; however, it took a little time to him to notice his hard cock pressed against his stomach, and he understood that it was not only time to reciprocate, but above all to dominate again.

With a quick move he reversed the positions and pulled the boy beneath him: Frost, for his part, didn't protest, nor tried to resist, but he opened his legs to leave him space and, with a groan, he turned his head, offering him the neck and clearly luring him to take advantage of him. With a low growl the Boogeyman bit his jugular and, at the same time, he slipped his right hand under his hoodie, possessively caressing that chest he couldn't wait to mark, and it was with a sigh of pure satisfaction that he heard the partner moaning, clinging to his shoulders to make him bending even more over that vein and arching his back until he perfectly exposed every protruding rib.

When the man rubbed his abdomen against the other's erection he understood Jack was too close to the limit to wait and, determined not to make him suffer, but at the same time to prolong the pleasure, he decided to satisfy him, postponing just for a little the languid tortures which he wanted to subject him to. For one last time he bit that hyaline flesh he madly loved, then, kneeling between his thighs, he untied Frosts trousers: he pulled them down a little, just to expose his groin, then, looking into his eyes that he, lost in lust, had raised only in that moment, he leaned on his lower abdomen and took his erection in his mouth.

The reaction of the boy was immediate: he held his breath with a hiss, following with the spine the shiver which had crossed him and intertwining his left's fingers into Pitch's hair, wildly grasping his strands and spur him to continue; the man didn't need persuading: almost without thinking to breathe he immediately began to suck, stroking him with his tongue and teeth, scratching his narrow hips with his nails, blocking his legs with his body to prevent him from escaping.

He didn't give him a break, never satisfied of his sighs more and more acute and rushed, never satisfied with the shivers that Frost could control less and less, determined not to be pleased with the growing heat he emanated. After some time he slid his left arm around his waist, in order to draw him even closer to himself, opening his thighs as wide as the lowered trousers allowed him, and when he heard a choked sob he literally clawed that silky skin, mixing thrills of pain to those of pleasure and causing him orgasm.

With a groan he let Jack push himself toward him, enduring the choking feeling and accepting that hot semen, which, on many occasions, he had received, as a gift, and, although he already knew it, he tasted it like the first time: he had missed it, he had terribly missed that flavour, spicy but fresh, that unique essence which epitomize so well every characteristic of the boy, which perfectly mixed up his innocence and his mischief, which bewitched him until it enslaved him and, at the same time, which lured to take the initiative and ask for more.

Feeling the partner relaxing and collapsing on the ground, he freed him from the possessive hug and, staggering a little, crawled up to him: languidly licking his own lips he enjoyed the sight of that face, usually so sweet, exhausted, its mouth half opened in the attempt to catch breath, its cheeks flushed, its half closed eyes liquid and blind, and he considered himself satisfied.

Bending over his ear he whispered: «Oh, little Jack, you missed me a lot, didn't you?».

He received no answer, so he smiled: he adored seeing Frost in that condition, so lost after an orgasm to not even be able to hear or move. In order to tease him he ran his tongue along his ear, but, as soon as he felt him trembling, he immediately stopped: for what he had in mind it was better that the other recovered as late as possible.

He quietly returned on his knees between his legs and he gently undid the laces he was wearing, as usual, on his calves; leaving them on a mossy clump he cautiously grabbed the upper edge of his trousers and underpants and he started to lower them, slowly uncovering his alabaster skin down to his ankles, but in that moment the boy woke up.

Blinking his eyelids Jack, still confused, muttered: «Mh, Pitch...?».

It was clear he wasn't going to run away or stop him, but only trying to understand what was happening, and if only he had guessed it he would have certainly allowed him, but that was not what Pitch wanted: without hesitation he tore off his clothes and grabbed him by the wrists, pulling them next to his face and staring at him with a grin.

A flash of surprise crossed those crystal clear irises and, with a faltering voice, the boy asked: «Pitch, are you okay?».

«Oh, I've never felt better, Jack» promptly replied the man; «However, you've forgotten something, too: between the two of us I'm the one who dominate, and I can not leave unpunished your disobedience of a short time ago»

The tone with which he uttered those words was firm, but alluring, and the gaze with which he stared at him cruel, but full of enticing promises; as soon as Frost saw it he smiled, mischievously, seeing the caring hidden behind the apparent harshness and well aware that he would have never, ever been hurt by him.

Baring his teeth the Boogeyman summoned some dark tentacles, wrapping them around the boy's forearms, forcing him to lay exactly in the same position in which, a little before, he had been trapped with ice; unfortunately Pitch hadn't had the time to take off his hoodie and he couldn't enjoy his perfect body completely naked, but he would have been content with that: in this moment he would have ever freed him for no reason at all, not until he had reached his goal.

Wishful, however, to secure himself the best possible view of that hyaline skin he adored so much, he slid his fingers under his shirt, lifting it to the collarbones and lightly scratching his epidermis; in response Jack groaned and closed his eyes, and Pitch couldn't hold himself from teasing him.

«Oh, how sensitive we are today, Jack».

«Nh, you say that, Pitch!» replied the boy, focusing just enough to send him an amused look; «I've never heard you moaning so loudly and repeatedly!».

Floored by the affirmation, as provocative as true, the man couldn't deny, so, diverting the conversation, he concluded: «Oh, Jack, you shouldn't waste your breath like that: you will need it later, trust me. Use that beautiful mouth in a more appropriate way: show me how you moved it a little while ago».

He uttered the sentence with a sensual tone, staring at him with an avid look and gently, but firmly, pulling his index and middle finger into his mouth, then, before he could react, he bent over his chest and started to lick his nipple in a circle; Frost immediately let out a muffled moan, arching toward that new source of pleasure, and he began to passionately suck the phalanges which had been offered to him.

Pleased with the fact he had found a way to satisfy his partner and keep him busy, Pitch was finally able to do to him what he wanted, and he noticed with amazement that his chest was white as snow, a perfectly uniform colour: in those ten days of forced separation the purple marks of their passion were completely gone.

"It shouldn't be like this: I'll immediately put it right, my little snowflake" thought the Boogeyman, piqued by the discovery: the boy was his, only his, and he should always bring on himself those marks, as a clear indication to everybody that he belonged to him and that he shouldn't be touched by anyone else. In fact, although he hadn't yet faced the question of the other Guardians yet and, until then, he had made sure to leave them only in covered areas, except for that jugular he loved madly, he couldn't let that signs fade away: it didn't suit to him.

With a snarl he voluptuously bit his soft skin, torturing it for a long time, and when he saw it had become purplish red and superficially injured where the teeth had sank in it he bent his mouth into a sneer: here, here, finally, it was, the sublimation of passion and possession, here it was the mark Jack should always wear on him! That, and countless others, which would have always reminded him the bond that united them, and the affection a little authoritarian, but undeniably thoughtful, which Pitch felt for him.

With a sigh, the man moved slowly along the chest of the other, torturing him with his teeth and soothing the pain with little kisses, marking him with bruises and hickeys, continuing until there was no more immaculate space which could be violated.

Satisfied with his work he rest on his left elbow to admire the partner, and instantly, he moaned: Frost was a show of pure lust. His teary eyes half-closed in a dreamy expression, his flushed cheeks, the his continuous groans, his back arched to expose the bony chest, his legs obscenely opened, everything in him cried out in a loud voice the irresistible urge that animated him; his mouth, then, his rose mouth so sweet was literally driving him crazy: the boy, in fact, used it with dexterity, accepting his fingers deep in his throat, licking and squeezing them between his swollen lips, occasionally biting them and sinuously moving the head, miming the gestures he had done before, showing him with every move the pleasure he felt in seducing him like that and sending it to him with all the passion he could, trying to drive him mad in every way. The man, moreover, was really close to get mad, to the point that he mentally thanked Jack for having trapped him with the ice, preventing him to see what he was doing: if, before, he had been able to enjoy that view, he would have endured very shortly to his languid courting.

Shaking his head, in the attempt to pull himself together, Pitch pulled back his fingers, rejoicing in the other's little, frustrated moan and bringing them between his legs, then he penetrated him without any preparation: obviously he made sure to be as gentle as possible, in order not to cause him burning and unnecessary wounds, but nonetheless he proceeded without hesitation, determined to make him feel a little pain to let him know that, this day, he would have made him his in an all absorbing way, taking him at length and passionately, too starved by the period of forced separation to be able to hold himself back.

Immediately he had the unexpected but pleasant surprise of not getting the desired effect: the boy arched up, moaning in pure pleasure and opening his thighs a little to entice him going on, clearly relaxed enough not to need any kind of preliminaries; the Boogeyman, however, did not want to risk hurting him, furthermore in an area so sensitive, so, making violence against himself, he restrained himself, continuing to prepare him.

With an eager sigh he hid his face in the hollow between the shoulder and the neck of his partner, deeply inhaling his intoxicating scent, but this wasn't enough to distract him: holding himself back like that was a real torture. With every movement he sank without the slightest difficulty in that soft, hot flesh, and the desire to feel it contracting around his cock, rather than around his fingers, was becoming more and more unbearable; just when he thought he had waited more than enough, however, his wait was rewarded.

With a cry far more acute than the others Frost suddenly stiffened, visibly shivering and pulling the tentacles of darkness which blocked him so abruptly he tore one of them apart; fearing he had hurt him Pitch hastened to watch his face, but the grimace he saw was evidently not caused by pain: the partner had opened wide his eyes, but in an expression of surprise, and his pupils soon get dilated, leaving him blind and prey of the hot chills that went through him.

A grin of pure satisfaction came over the man's face: oh, he had heard about that spot so special that could make the boys feel an overwhelming pleasure, a secret whispered in the night by his victims who emanated an irresistible terror of being discovered while they united themselves in forbidden embraces, but he would never have thought that Jack had it! Not all the men were sensitive enough to have it, and some of them were so sensitive to suffer even the slightest accidental touch: it was for this reason that Pitch had never overdone, content to give him pleasure in a thousand other ways and giving up to verify if that rumours were true of false. However, now that he had accidentally ascertained it, facilitated by Frost's state of excitation, which had allowed him to stimulate him in a way he had never been able to do before, he would have taken advantage of it, exploiting it until he would have make him exhausted.

«You like it when I touch you here, don't you, sweetie?» asked the Boogeyman with a mischievous tone.

Immediately he touched again the hidden nerve he had found, and he smiled in seeing the boy jumping with a gasp, biting his lower lip so hard he almost cut it. Fearing he might hurt himself the man made him open his mouth and he covered it with a tentacle of the same darkness with which he created his own clothes, in order to force him biting it instead of his silky skin, then he stroked a couple of times that special spot with his fingertips; finally, make sure he had already memorized its location, he pulled the fingers out, opening his legs and penetrating him with a single, fluid thrust.

He half closed his eyes, arching his spine and letting out a releasing groan: oh, how much he had missed his little snowflake, how much nostalgia he had felt for those embraces! Physically coming together with him had never been a need or an obligation: what he usually needed was feeling spiritually linked to him, hearing his melodious voice talking with him, hugging him and covering him with kisses, but not necessarily going beyond, to the extent that they had spent periods longer than ten days without having sex; however, when it had happened, they had voluntarily decided so, and they had nonetheless kept company with each other in other ways. This time, on the contrary, the situation was completely different: the separation had been imposed by external causes, and Pitch had never felt a greater frustration by being denied something he wanted. Finally, after days of wearing wait, he had obtained it, and he would have made up for lost time, courting his partner in every way, bringing him to the limit over and over again, communicating him that he had suffered because of that separation in the only way he had the courage to use, letting himself be lured by that warm and cosy body which, probably, desired him more than he desired it.

Pulling himself together he looked down, staring at the teary eyes of Frost, who was breathing in haste, returning the look and quietly waiting; he caressed his stomach with a mischievous smile, brushing the skin with open palms, from the rib cage to the groin, then he moved the left on his hard cock and gave a strong thrust: with an eager sigh he saw him moaning and putting his legs around his waist, and, bending over him, he went on, deeply breathing his scent. It took him few other thrusts to find that special spot inside him: as soon as he hit it he heard Jack crying out against the gag, arching and hugging him so hard to impede his movements, and he stubbornly went on, continuing to sink in that hot flesh contracted by shivers of pleasure and caressing his growing erection.

Lost in the series of gasps the boy was letting out the man kissed his chest, to calm him, and, in a hoarse voice, he whispered directly into his ear: «Oh, Jack, how can the Spirit of the cold be so _hot_?».

Those languid words, together with the other things, were too much for Jack, who, tensing as the string of a bow, came for the second time, pulling the tentacles that bound his forearms and finally reducing to shreds the one which protected his mouth; slowing down the Boogeyman evoked a handful of magic sand, passing it on his abdomen to dry it up, then he picked up the pace, determined not to give him the slightest truce nor to make him loose the excitement.

Caressing his right tip with the open palm and tickling his jugular with his nose, in order not to make him forget that he could be as sweet and thoughtful as passionate, Pitch realized that the partner still tended to bite his lip between a groan and the other; he lightly kissed, but he realized that Frost would have not been able to follow him, so he gently grabbed his chin with his thumb and index finger and whispered: «No, Jack, do not torture your lips, they're so beautiful... Bite me, bite me with all the strength you have».

With difficulty the boy stared at his eyes with his blurred ones, confused, then he seemed to grasp the meaning of the sentence and, while continuing to sigh, he turned his lost expression into one full of mischief and desire, baring his canines. Smiling at him the man slid his fingers behind his head: pressing on his nap he draw him up to the soft hollow between his right shoulder and the neck, then, fearing that the position could be uncomfortable for him, he loosened the grip of the dark coils on his right forearm, so that he could free him. Jack immediately took advantage of this, throwing his arm around his back and hurriedly ripping the robe to the waist, then he clung to him, sinking his short and sharp nails short into his flesh and biting it.

With a gasp Pitch stiffened, pushing his chest against the partner's one and trying not to stop. He had never had to concentrate so much in his life to keep lucid: his whole body was shaken by exciting shivers more and more intense, and now all his movement were modulated to follow them and adapt to those which crossed the boy; breathing was becoming increasingly difficult for him, because the other hold him so tightly and possessively he didn't leave him space, and because he had hidden his head in the folds of his hood, whose ice had melted by now, and he couldn't break away, intoxicated by the scent of snow and sex he emanated, so intense as to make him dizzy. Without a doubt, though, what brought him to his knees were the languid and violent tortures which Frost subjected him to: every thrust of the man into his partner's body brought out one of his teeth in his shoulder, deep, strong, careless to reach sinews or muscles, devoted only to making him shiver and push harder; his nails, then, were not less so: since Frost had hugged him they tortured his back, occasionally stumbling in the protruding bones, scratching him from the shoulder to the side, leaving him burning cuts which continued to nourish the vicious circle of pleasures and pleasant pains exchanged.

Just when he perceived that his strength was failing Pitch felt the boy shuddering: he tried to rise up to leave him space, but the other cling to him almost desperately, stifling an acute and satisfied groan in a last bite, and, amazed and content, he realized that the other had just had his third orgasm.

Too exhausted for a wet pleasure Jack merely arched his back, standing in that position for few seconds and then collapsing on the ground; taking advantage of his pliability Pitch stopped, freed him and, leaning on his elbows, he looked at him: he was completely exhausted. His head was turned to a side, his crystal clear eyes blind and shiny, his cheeks flushed and wet with tears, his half opened lips stained with blood, his neck outstretched and bent in an almost unnatural position, his arms opened in the final surrender, his body completely abandoned on the moss, his legs spread and still stuck in the last shreds of his robe. That vision was sweet and mischievous at the same time: the confidence and generosity with which the boy was offering himself were undeniable, but his languid pose begged him to give him whatever he wanted, making him enjoy himself up to fainting, and that silent luring was exactly what the Boogeyman needed to go on.

With a sigh he returned with his back upright and he grabbed the partner by the hips, starting to penetrate him: now he could take it without the slightest difficulty, and Frost offered no resistance, merely quivering and weakly panting. Worn out by the embrace the man didn't last long and he reached the limit: with one last, strong thrust he came inside him, leaning towards him and moaning directly into his ear, enjoying the smile which saw in response.

With all his might he tried to move away, but he didn't manage to: with a snort he fell on his partner, modulating his breath on his one so as not to encumber too much on him and staying inside of him. Slowly he moved his arms to hold him into an approximate hug, as if to repay him for the much more warm and cosy one in which the boy had received him: at last he had found him, at last his little snowflake was back with him, and the embrace in which he had attracted him had soothed all the nostalgia he had felt. By now he knew for sure, the boy hadn't been away from him for so long for indifference: every look, every caress, every thrust and every sigh had showed him he had missed him a lot.

He allowed himself few minutes to rest, then he got up, leaving Jack and gently pressing his palm on his abdomen, in order to make him not feel a sense of emptiness; he carefully checked his, to be sure he hadn't hurt him, then he went back along his tortured jugular in an endless series of kisses, slowly waking him, and, when he reached his ear, he whispered: «Oh, Jack, if only you could see yourself right now... More that the Guardian of Frost you look like the Guardian of Lust».

Hearing that sentence the boy turned his head with difficulty, until he could stare at his eyes, then, chuckling, he said: «Oh, Pitch, I'm not the Guardian of Frost, I'm the Guardian of Fun. And, anyway, I said it to everybody: I'm snowballs and _fun times_...».

Pitch immediately burst into laughter, surprised by the unexpected response, and when he manage to stop he gave him a quick, chaste kiss, immediately stepping back to look at him again; Frost, however, stuck out his tongue to silently ask him to deepen the contact, but when he passed it on his lips he turned his mischievous expression into an amazed one and he demanded: «Pitch, is it your blood what I've just tasted?».

With a languid look languid the man answered: «Yes, Jack. If you want me to I can give you a hand to clean it».

Pushing him wawy the boy exclaimed, worried: «No, let me see: I wounded you and I didn't want to hurt you like this, I want to remedy, please!».

Puffing the Boogeyman said: «Do not be a mother hen! Fine, you can watch it, but you must describe it to me».

Still annoyed he turned his head and showed him the bite; Jack sent him a grieved look and he murmured: «I'm sorry, Pitch, I didn't think I was biting you so hard. However, you're pretty roughed up: the bruise is big, more than the bite, and I cut the skin with my teeth. I'm sorry, I...».

«Shhh, enough, Jack» interrupted him Pitch, putting his index and middle finger on his lips; «That bite is exactly how I wanted it to be, and there's nothing else to be said».

In response, the boy smiled, grateful and a little reassured, then he hugged him, but merely putting his arms around his waist without tightening the grip; unable to hold himself back the man teased him: «Too tired to properly give me a hug?».

Chuckling Frost replied: «Well, Pitch, what can I say: good thing that you didn't miss me, right? Otherwise, I don't know, I guess I'd be in some corner of your lair, still bound and gagged, while you, with a whip in your hand, abused me in every way, making sure to wake me up every time I fainted only in order to torture me again».

«Oh, but that's what will happen to you soon, Jack» said the Boogeyman with a mellow voice; «What I've done to you was just a little taste, to punish your rebellion. You have to be good, Jack, you have to be obedient, otherwise I'll have to punish you again».

At that statement the young man smiled, provocative, well aware that Pitch madly adored those moments when he took the initiative to amaze him, and he commented: «Did you know, Pitch? Santa Claus keeps a list of naughty children and I am the first one of them».

«I didn't have the slightest doubt» replied the man.

Smiling he drew him into a tender kiss, gently touching his reddened lips, making sure not to press too hard on the scratches in order not to cause him pain, and he softly stroked his tongue with his own one, drawing him into a slow but no less passionate dance; soon, however, he realized that Jack followed him with difficulty and had started to pant, so, moving away from him, he whispered: «Jack, you're exhausted: you need to rest».

The other whined and, although he was clearly exhausted, he started to protest: «No, I don't want to, I missed you so much, I cannot sleep right now, please...».

«Jack, Jack, don't be silly, you barely manage to keep your eyes opened» interrupted him the Boogeyman.

He stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers to calm him and, although he was flattered by his lovely behaviour, he continued: «I won't run away, sweetie, I'll stay here with you and you will see me again when you'll wake up, but now you have to rest. You're so beautiful when you sleep, let me watch you a little while you rest, and then dream with you».

He uttered the sentences with infinite sweetness, not caring at all to flaunt superiority and indifference as he always did on those occasions: when the boy was tired like he was in this moment he understood more the thoughtfulness that laid in those than the words themselves, and when he woke up he seemed not to remember anything, so Pitch could indulge in those cuddles without fearing they could be hold against him.

As he imagined Frost tried again to speak, but he barely managed to move his mouth, then, after few seconds, he fell asleep, his head still resting against his left hand. With a smile the Boogeyman watched him falling into the world of dreams, then he put his lips on his ones in a last farewell and he got up; he carefully pulled down his hoodie, in order to make him not feel cold, he closed his legs and made him lie down on a side, so that the stones of the ground didn't hurt his back; finally he laid down in front of him, weaving a soft blanket of darkness from the lower part of his robe, barely survived that embrace, and he draped it on both of them, from the feet to the waist. Oh, how much he appreciated those moments! His little snowflake was so beautiful, and the confidence with which he rested in his arms was so moving! He loved to have the possibility to look at him, hold him and thoughtfully cuddle him, sharing all the affection which he felt for him and which pride and fear prevented him from showing in the light of the sun, and it was for this reason that, despite he was exhausted, he was determined to resist as much as possible to the call of sleep.

Resting his forehead against his one, to share with him even his breath, then he started to gently scratch his nape, and when he suddenly felt something grabbing his arm he nearly shouted: leaping back a few inches he saw that his partner had waken up with a start, opening wide his eyes and panting. The boy stood motionless for a moment, then he looked at him with a gaze a little lost, but genuinely concerned, and he whispered: «You didn't answered to me».

Pitch, who had been, to say the least, shocked by that unexpected jump and who had seriously feared he had been surprised fondling him, had to firmly hold himself back in order to avoid bursting into a laughter; with a quick move he hugged Jack tightly and he whispered: «You 're mine, Jack, mine, and only mine».

Although his expression seemed still a bit confused the boy focused to listen to him and, hearing that statement, he smiled, gratefully, as he had also heard the unspoken words: "And I am yours, Jack, yours and only yours”.

With a sigh he dozed off again, going back to sleep like a baby, as if nothing had happened, and the man let out a chuckle while he started again to caress his neck: he had really made his heart jumping with his sudden movement.

He settled down again among the clods of moss, in order to get back to enjoy his silent and unconscious company, but a rustling behind him disturbed him: annoyed he turned, snorting, looking around to find the source of the noise, and when he spotted it he opened wide his eyes with surprise and terror.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ^^. I won't be at home from tomorrow to Friday evening, so, if you leave me a comment but I don't answer you immediately, do not get angry XD have a little patience, I will surely answer you on Saturday morning!  
> Hoping that my friend will manage to review the translation in the next day, I will publish the next chapter on Sunday morning ^^ see you soon!


	15. Chapter 15

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 15**

 

Puffing, annoyed, Pitch turned to look for the source of the noise; exhausted because of the embrace it took a little to him to distinguish it from the landscape, but, when he managed to, he opened wide his irises in surprise and terror: at the border of the clearing there was Toothiana, who, leaning with the right shoulder against the same cherry tree from which Jack had appeared, was staring at him with her arms crossed.

Without wasting time to reflect the Boogeyman bared his teeth and, with his left arm, he evoked his black sand and shaped a spear which he hurled against her; the fairy, however, avoided it easily and darted toward him.

Wrong footed by the unexpected movement the man tried to dodge her, but he only ended slipping and hitting his shoulder against a stone; cornered he raised his arm to defend himself, but the Guardian grabbed him firmly and whispered: «Shhh! You don't want to wake up Jack, do you?».

Dumbfounded, Pitch ventured to lower their guard a little, and he saw in the eyes of his enemy a mixture of concern, disappointment and tenderness; before he could react he heard her continuing: «Come on, come with me: let's go talking at the border of the clearing».

Astonished he watched her freeing him, turn her back on him and calmly flying away, as if she were sure she wouldn't have been attacked, and he couldn't help but wonder at her behaviour: why was she there? How long has she been watching them? Why had she been so nice to him, not reacting with violence to his attack and even talking to him in a tone so sweet? And above all, what did she want from him?

Seeing him wavering Toothiana beckoned him to come closer and, although he was suspicious, the Boogeyman decided to reach her: with a simple gesture he cut in two the blanket of darkness, tucking his partner in the first half, in order to cover his naked legs, and wrapping the second one around his own hips, too tired to be able to create even just the trousers he used to wear; after that he stood up, then, concentrating, he enveloped Frost with the same dark coils he had used to warm him up months ago, in order to protect him without waking him up. Satisfied he walked towards the fairy, stepping cautiously through the undergrowth without making a noise, and when he reached her she exclaimed: «Oh, Pitch, you're incorrigible! You barely saw me and you immediately started to attack! I can't understand: why are you always so aggressive? I was not going to hurt you! And then, look, you're less careful than a child: you have soiled the bite mark! Come on, let me do it: I'll clean it for you».

Overwhelmed by that series of scoldings the man couldn't help but keep silent, getting an expression of disbelief which immediately became embarrassed and, at the same time, piqued in hearing the last sentence; angrily he replied: «I do not need you, little fairy, this sign is not your business!».

With a sly smile the fairy commented: «Oh, of course it's not, but can't you imagine how sorry would Jack be if the bite got infected? I'm sure he would feel guilty».

Tripped Pitch didn't know what to say and the Guardian took the opportunity to fly to the stream, pick up a some water in her cupped hands and return back; without hesitation she poured it over the wound and, startling, the Boogeyman snapped: «Damn, it's freezing!».

«Oh, come on, do not startle like that, you should be used to it by now» teased him the other.

Taking the blow the man said: «Even this is not your business, little fairy! You're prying a bit too much in my... hey! What the hell were you thinking?!».

Without warning him, in fact, Toothiana had grabbed a hem of his rough skirt, pulling up to tear off a piece and almost making the fabric fall to the ground; managing to snatch it just in time Pitch rearranged it, then he stared at the woman with a gaze full of hatred to urge her to confess.

«Oh, Pitch, come on, don't frown! I have no desire to argue with you, I just want to talk in a civil manner. I'm sorry for the joke: I needed a rag to clean the wound. Do not worry: I'm not interested to see what is underneath, I can only imagine the jealousy of Jack if he knew that I've seen you» answered the fairy, chuckling.

«However, these are not rags» muttered the Boogeyman, deliberately ignoring the rest of the speech.

As soon as he saw the interlocutor getting closer he instinctively recoiled instinctively, so, smiling, she reassured him: «Pitch, you have nothing to fear about: do not withdraw».

Puffing the man rolled his eyes and tilted his head a little to leave her more space; he intended to stubbornly stare at an undefined point in the forest, expressing undisguised impatience for the treatment he had to undergo, but curiosity had its way, so, albeit cautiously, he dared to turn.

The Guardian had lifted in the air to compensate for the height difference and, half closing her eyes, she was carefully analysing the bite; wrinkling her lips in an almost childish expression she began to dab the injured area, at first taking off the larger fragments of moss, then focusing on a cut at a time, touching them gently to remove every speck of soil. Frowning Pitch watched those slender fingers which were taking care of him, unable to hold back a shudder remembering how, months ago, they didn't hesitate to clench into a fist and punch him, so violently to make him lose a tooth, and he couldn't help but wonder the reason: why, why now did they treat him so gently? What had changed in that short period? What had been able to erase in a breath decades of hatred and battles?

«Perfect, now we're getting somewhere! This bite is definitely clean» said Toothiana, moving away a little to gaze at her work.

With a lazy gesture the Boogeyman dissolved the cloth in her hands, then, rousing himself with astonishment, he blurted out: «Well, now that you had fun playing the nurse, can you explain to me what the hell are you doing here?!».

The fairy immediately burst out into a merry laugh, which she promptly stifled in order not to make too much noise, and she answered: «Oh, Pitch, silly man, this clearing is part of my kingdom, it should be me the one who asks what are you doing here!».

«But...» demurred the man; «But usually you never pass through here, it's a dead end to the mountains, you cannot get to the children».

«I know, I know, in fact I'm here for a completely different reason» said the Guardian, turning serious; «Less than an hour ago Bunnymund arrived breathless in my palace, running as if he had a hound at his heels and urging us to come to the aid of Jack; of course we tried to calm him down, but he never listened to us, so I accompanied him here to prove him that it's all right. Now, may I know what you did to that poor Pooka?» asked him, benevolently rebuking him.

Chuckling at the memory Pitch exclaimed: «Oh, what a sensitive bunny he is! He doesn't fail his kind: courage is not his strength. Are you really sure he symbolizes hope? I didn't do anything even though he had attacked me, indeed, I volunteered to scratch his ears, and he ungrateful, in response, ran away. How I longed to feel his beautiful, soft fur under my fingers...».

«Oh, come on, stop that!» reproached him the woman, though she was clearly amused; «Do not rub the salt into it! Anyway, I can well imagine how you proposed it to him! So, tell me, how did Jack take it?».

Hit where it hurt by the incredible intuition of the woman, the Boogeyman covered his embarrassment behind a smile full of arrogance and he sharply answered: «Jack does what I tell him to do, and anyway I would touch that rabbit only to crush him: my luring was just a way to make him leave».

Keeping calm Toothiana clutched her thin chin between thumb and forefinger, staring at him thoughtfully, then she commented: «Jack was right: you're incredibly touchy».

«What...?» cried the Boogeyman.

The fairy, however, ignored him and continued: «Anyway, you've been very good when you didn't attacked him even though he had tried to hurt you: thank you for restraining yourself. Do you see that, if you make a little effort, you can be a true gentleman?».

The man was about to open his mouth, but he did not know what to say: every detail of the situation left him speechless. The Guardian behaved in a spontaneous way, carrying on a conversation with ease, from the serious to the ridiculous with disarming informality, joking with him and reassuring him, expressing all herself without any filtering, and this was not unusual, because he had seen her doing that all the times he had peeked at her to figure out how to defeat her. The absurdity was that she was behaving like that even with him, the enemy par excellence, the one that had nearly destroyed her. Had she really forgiven him for all the evil he had done? It made no sense, it made no sense just like the feeling he had at that moment: it seemed to him he was talking with a friend, a thoughtful acquaintance of long-standing who had come to tell him the latest news and make him laugh a little, in order not to make him feel alone, to make him feel almost in... family.

Suddenly he shook his head to erase those reflections: a family? Along with Toothiana? What a nonsense! He had always been alone and he would have always been alone, except for, of course, his little snowflake, who he would have never freed for no reason at all.

While he was thinking about that a sudden doubt freeze his blood and, trying not to show fear, he asked with nonchalance: «However, when did you arrived here?».

«I arrived about twenty minutes ago» started the fairy.

Pitch felt sick at the thought he had been caught red-handed with Jack, but the interlocutor smiled, slyly, and she went on: «About ten meters far from here, however, I heard that Jack was, how can I say?, _expressing himself_ aloud, so I took care to intercepted Bunnymund and show him the wrong way to lose a bit of time».

«Is the Pooka here?» asked urgently Pitch.

«Yes, but he didn't want to get close: he still don't trust you. He should be near...» replied the other.

The Boogeyman, however, immediately interrupted her: «Oh, now I understand, I understand everything! Your kindness, your cordiality, the timing with which you showed up: it was all a trick! But you miscalculated, little fairy: I'm not a fool, and I won't be fooled by a canary and her bunny friend! If you just try to touch Jack the obscure tentacles which surround him will reject you, and I'll take care to destroy you with my own hands: you will never bring him away from me, he is mine and mine only!» threatened her the man with anger.

The Guardian jumped back, surprised by that surge of rage, but she immediately turned calm and, placing her right hand on his shoulder not wounded, she tenderly smiled and reassured him: «Oh, Pitch, you don't have to worry about this: I would never come between you and Jack, and I would never allow anyone to do so. You are so sweet together, and so happy, trying to separate you would be absurd. I know that Jack is yours, and you're Jack's».

«Who did tell you this last nonsense, Jack, by any chance?» snapped the man with a venomous tone, still guarded for the suspicions he had reached.

«Oh, no, I guessed “this last nonsense” on my own» explained quietly Toothiana; «You can deny you care about him all the times you want, Pitch, but your love shines through in every gesture: you're thoughtful, when you tease him you never become cruel, you always look for him and, when you think he can't you, you can be extremely tender. Really, I was almost surprised by the gentleness with which you were cuddling him when I arrived...».

«Oh, stop that, cut it out! You're saying a bunch of nonsenses!» interrupted Pitch, embarrassed beyond belief and grateful, for the second time that day, to be unable to blush.

«It looks like Jack is not resting well, do you think we're disturbing him?» demanded the fairy, dubiously.

Worried, the Boogeyman turned around and saw that Jack stirred in his sleep, letting out plaintive moans and coming out in a cold sweat; without wasting time the man ran to him, he knelt down beside him and, reabsorbing the magic sand, he blame himself for his own superficiality: what a fool, what a naive fool he had been! Distracted by the conversation he had forgotten to hold off the tentacles, and these ones had slowly eluded his control, reaching the mind of the boy and causing him a nightmare.

He quickly checked he had erased every trace of darkness, but he had to admit, frustrated, that Frost's conditions hadn't improved: unfortunately, as the Boogeyman, he could recall the fear, but do not replace it with golden dreams. Ignoring the unbearable helplessness he felt decided to try another approach: he gently grabbed his right hand, whose fingers were spasmodically sunk in the moss, and he brought it to his heart, so that, feeling his one throbbing quietly, even his partner's one would have calmed down, adjusting to a more regular pace; then he bent over him, taking care not to encumber him with his own weight, making him perceiving his presence in order not to let him feel alone, and, praying his voice could reach him through the darkness, he thoughtfully whispered: «Jack, my baby, don't be afraid, it's just a nightmare. I promise you it will go away: I'm here with you, I won't leave you alone. Be quiet and it will go away, sweetie, trust me...».

It only took few, short sentences of reassurance to calm Jack down, finally dispelling the bad dream, and the man couldn't help but rejoice: letting out a sigh of relief he placed a soft kiss just below his ear, then returned on his knees, enjoying his little snowflake again serene.

Just when he was about to settle his hoodie and cuddle him he remembered his interlocutor and, abruptly turning, he froze: actually she hadn't lost a single act of his loving care and, at that moment, she was staring at them with a look half dreamy and half moved, hovering about a yard over the ground and resting her right cheek on her folded hands, in a pose that clearly showed the approval he felt for what she was seeing.

As soon as he crossed his irises Toothiana smiled, thoughtful and a bit provocative, and as a coup de grace she exclaimed: «Oh, Pitch, you said it's all a "bunch of nonsense", but it seems to be quite real. Seriously, usually you are a master when it comes to lying, but in certain field you should better avoid lies: you're not able to make them seem true».

Exasperated by the ease with which the fairy could expose him and the precision with which she hit his weak points in teasing him, Pitch bared his teeth and, with a snarl, he stretched his right arm towards her to set a Nightmare on her; unfortunately, however, he had not come to terms with his own tiredness, but, above all, with the last gift he had received. From his palm, leaving behind himself a trail of blue, bright sand, Jack's bunny appeared in all its dazzling splendour: not scared at all he looked around to acclimate, wrinkling its nose in order to smell every scent of the clearing, then he went with little leaps towards the Guardian, rising on its hind paws to sniff her legs and shaking its muzzle when her feathers tickled its whiskers.

At that sight the Boogeyman gaped: no, this was definitely not his day. Covering his eyes with his hand to hide the shame and frustration, he didn't even have the strength to rig out an excuse and, with a sense of inevitability, he patiently waited for his interlocutor's reaction.

The woman, in turn, had been enchanted by the apparition and, with a moved expression, she exclaimed: «Oh, Pitch, it's adorable! Did you do it together with Jack?»

«Yes» answered the man, motionless.

He would have liked to try to keep up the appearances, but he couldn't deny the evidence, so he gave up fighting against the uncontrollable Toothiana's enthusiasm: at that moment he was too tired, too unfortunate and far too new to that kind of conversation.

While he was still sighing for the poor figure he had given he heard the fairy start talking to the animal, speaking with the same tone she would have used with a small child and saying: «Who is the most beautiful bunny in the world? Yes, it's you! Oh, you're so sweet, do you want to play a little? Your fur is so soft! May I caress you? Oh, yes, I see that you like so much cuddles!».

Puzzled Pitch opened his fingers and peered through them: the Guardian was fluttered around the rabbit, gazing at him from every angle and caressing his snow white fur, enraptured, pleasantly amazed by its every reaction and continuing to fondle him.

Sure he had endured enough in the last quarter of an hour the Boogeyman recalled the spirit and, as soon as it landed on his palm, he clenched his fist, dissolving him; at that gesture the woman let out a disappointed lament, but she calmed down as soon as she saw the look of reproach that the man addressed her, and, giggling a little embarrassed, she commented: «Well, anyway it was a very cute bunny! Now, maybe, I'd better go».

«Yes, it wouldn't be a bad idea!» exclaimed Pitch, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

«All right: I'll go back to my palace, but you can stay here as long as you want! The fairies will not come to disturb you: as you said before they never pass through here. Ah, Pitch, there's just another thing» added Toothiana.

Hearing her call the Boogeyman, who had already stretched his legs to lie down next to Jack, turned, leaning on his left elbow, and, with undisguised exasperation, he asked: «Yes?».

«The kitten scratches a lot, doesn't he?» demanded the fairy with a provocative expression, immediately flying away.

«Think about your teeth, fairy good for nothing!» yelled at her the man.

Finally alone he rolled his eyes and collapsed on the ground with a puff: that conversation had literally worn him out. Tired with the long embrace and stunned by the uncontrollable enthusiasm of the Guardian he had mainly suffered, tossed around from a theme to another one, and obediently responding to every pressing question: an attitude which certainly wasn't compliant with him; but, after all, nothing of what had happened could be defined “compliant”.

Going back lean on his forearm Pitch ran his irises on the sleeping figure of his partner, and then he stared at his face; he gently stroked his cheek, enjoying the imperceptible and involuntary smile he made to that contact, and inevitably he thought about what had just happened. He still could not explain the kindness with which Toothiana had treated him, but he sensed that the disorientation he felt was due to the fact that she seemed to know him deeper than he imagined: maybe was she aware of his relationship with Jack? Actually he suspected that for a long time, because the boy often spoke of her as a dear friend and it was probable that she had guessed their relationship; however, some special, revealing details, which she certainly couldn't have found out by her own, let him assume that the two had talked openly about this.

In addition to this there was another unresolved fact: the fairy had told him that, when Bunnymund had come to his palace asking for help, everyone had intervened to calm him down. For what reason would they have done such an absurd thing? Did they know, too? And. if so, why did they do nothing to sever that union so unnatural between naïve goodness and mischievous treachery?

Shaking his head Pitch startled and took a deep breath to calm the chaos that had invaded his mind: those were just assumptions dictated by agitation and tiredness, and even if he had been brooding about them for hours and hours, he could have never reached the solution of the doubt. Deciding to postpone the questions, possibly by asking clarifications to the boy, the man laid behind him and whispered: «Jack, Jack, what a strange friends you have found».

Incidentally, the boy let out a faint moan, perhaps disturbed by the uncomfortable position in which he was, and the Boogeyman couldn't help but feel a little pang at the thought that, now, he was not the only one who had heard that melodious sound: he was jealous of Jack, of his body and of his soul that he, and only he, had the permission to look at and own, but he couldn't deny that he had got a little embarrassed knowing he had been caught red-handed. He wished that embrace could remain private, not much because it was forbidden, but because it was a moment of intimate sharing, and realizing they had been heard had broken a little the idyll; however, fortunately, the Guardian had had the decency not to approach them and, indeed, to protect them until the boy had fallen asleep, and he would have been eternally grateful to her for what she had done.

Yawning he laid down, but he had a sudden flash of realization: he had just admitted he had felt embarrassed when he had feared he had been discovered in Frost's embrace. Why? He was sure, few months before he wouldn't have cared about it at all, and, on the contrary, if he had noticed someone was watching him he would have certainly made sure that the audience could fully appreciate every detail, standing on his knees with his back upright to offer them a better view, opening the boy's thighs to expose him as much as possible, giving deep and strong thrusts to make him scream in pleasure, pausing once in a while to force his legs to tighten around his waist and beg him to continue, and then satisfying him, showing in every possible way that Jack was completely his and could not be saved. Now, however, it was not so: he would have summoned hordes of Nightmares if he only had noticed the presence of a fifth wheel, and, no doubt, he would have thrown himself on the partner to protect him from prying eyes. Why had his attitude changed so radically? Maybe were the words of the fairy true? Had he started to love him?

With a sigh he closed his eyes, running his fingers through Frost's silver strands, and he thought about it: he cared about him, this was evident and undeniable, but did he feel something more? He didn't know what love was: hearing the boy declaring his he had felt a skipped heartbeat and he had been pervaded by an indescribable sweetness, but exactly what was that feeling? Perhaps a sense of completeness? Because, in this case, that was what he felt when he spent his time with his little snowflake.

Almost without realizing it, he bent over his ear and tried to utter that sentence as short as absolute, intimately hoping to be able to reach a deeper understanding when he had rid of the weight of mere words: he opened his mouth and his lips moved slowly, but no sound came out of them, and suddenly he shook himself. Oh, how naive he had been! Stunned by the speeches of that overgrown canary he had got so confused to believe her silly words! It was not a question of love or not, Jack was his and only his, and there was nothing more to add, no simpering question to ponder over.

With a grin he pulled himself together and, giving one last gentle bite to the boy's jugular, he laid down beside him: he turned him on his left side, so that the stones of the land could not make his back stiff, then he hugged him from behind, pulling him until he felt his spine perfectly adhering to his own chest.

Now quiet he whispered: «Sweet dreams, my baby».

Then, kissing his forehead one last time, he fell asleep.

 

 

«So, have you seen? He had been neither bad nor aggressive, rather! He talk civilly to me, and then, have you seen how sweet he behaved with Jack? Huh? Have you seen?» asked Toothiana.

«Oh, yes, so sweet that I got a cavity! Tooth, damn, give me a break!» snapped Bunnymund.

The two were sit next to the log covered with moss behind which the Easter Bunny had holed up to eavesdrop the conversation between the fairy and Pitch, too wary both to get close and to go away. He had been nothing short of shocked to see Jack defend the enemy and fraternizing with him, and his astonishment had increased even more when, reached the Guardians, instead of prompt help he had received kind reassurances: how was it possible that the other didn't care about this unhealthy friendship, or, better still, considered what he had just seen, this relationship so absurd and dangerous? Why didn't they destroy the Boogeyman? Why didn't they save Frost from his clutches? Why did they accept that abomination, even joking about it, instead of intervening and end it?

With a frustrated groan he held his head with his paws and he closed his eyes, as if he wanted to protect himself from reality: it made no sense, it made no sense at all, there was no other explanation.

«Bunnymund, please listen to me! You can't not see! Look, look careful: look how serene Jack is, look how he responds to Pitch's hug. Now, look at Pitch: he hugs him as if he were the most precious thing in the world, and up to a second before he fell asleep he cuddled him with a sweetness that I have rarely seen in my life! How can't you realize that he's changing? That he's finding his human side? He discovered how to love, and he does it with prompt affection and infinite dedication. And he's happy, Bunnymund, he's happy again! And Jack is happy with him... they complete each other: you can't not understand it» tried to convince him the woman, with a calm but firm tone.

The Pooka stubbornly replied: «That's not true! Pitch is not hugging Jack, he's holding him by force! He left a mark on his neck, and others on his wrists, don't you see? I bet that he tied him!».

«Maybe Jack likes it» said Toothiana with a mischievous smile.

Lowering his ears in embarrassment Bunnymund hesitated, opening wide his eyes, then he exclaimed: «But, but...! Are you mad!?».

«Oh, come on, do not tell me you didn't notice the bite Pitch has on the shoulder, and the scratches on his back!».

«For sure, in fact Jack tried to defend himself!» stubbornly insisted the Easter Bunny.

Sighing the fairy rubbed her temples and, staring at him with a sceptical look, she commented: «Bunnymund, are you serious? Tell me you're not trying to convince me of such an absurdity! Since when does a person protect theirselves from an aggressor scratching his back? Anyone would try to hit him in the chest, so as to push him away!».

Unable to deny the evidence the Pooka glanced down and stammered something, but the woman took his muzzle between her thin hands and, with a gentle voice, he whispered: «Bunnymund, please, listen to me. I understand you: I know that it's not easy at all, for you, to see this. You've known this news suddenly and, most of all, in the worst way: we wanted to talk about it with you weeks ago, but, unfortunately, you were always too busy and we needed time and tranquillity to explain you everything. I know how you feel about Pitch, I know how much anger, hatred and desire for avenge you harbor in your heart because of what he did to you the last Easter, but we have already restored the balance: revenge will not bring back to you the lost feast and would not do any justice, it would only create more chaos, and you know how important is that each of us, included Pitch, do his duty. I swear to you, in the past months he has been really good, he worked with regularity in all areas of the world and he never exaggerated with Nightmares: can you imagine what would happen if you attacked him now? We cannot afford another battle with him, as always those who would suffer more, in the end, would be the children, both if we won or lost, and I know you love children and you don't want to cause them any suffering. Hold yourself back, I ask you as a Guardian. As a friend, instead, I ask you to take all the time you need and ask for help or advice if you want them, but finally accept their relationship: Jack saved your life, you can not take away his happiness with your hatred».

With a sigh Bunnymund turned his face to the clearing and, placing his front paws on the log, he raised himself just enough to be able to watch the two lovers. The distance was not a problem for a sight like his: he could easily make out every little detail, and, if only he had had the patience, he could have counted every thread of the string that hung from Jack's hood; the real problem was what was in front of his eyes.

Frost was located approximately in the centre of the clearing, softly nestled among the clumps of moss and wrapped in the black blanket, but several clues showed what he had just experienced: the way in which he laid revealed a deep abandon, his expression was haggard and exhausted, his skin paler than usual and his mouth half opened, as if he couldn't breath enough. For more the perfidious author of everything was still there, brazenly lying behind him, so bold to hold him in a possessive grip. It was nothing but unacceptable! How much he would have wanted to break into the clearing, push him away with a kick and punch him until he would have smashed his skull! He and his perfidy should have never aimed at a spirit so good, his disgusting hands should have never touched a creature so generous and naïve! Why, why had he decided to enmesh him?

Taking a deep breath the Easter Bunny made an effort to dispose of his anger and think clearly, and in order to do so, he mentally reconstructed what had happened that afternoon. Immediately he remembered how the boy had intervened in Boogeyman's defence, and suddenly he remembered a detail which, at first, he hadn't given weight to at all: his gaze. To his attack he had replied with eyes full of surprise, disbelief, disappointment and sadness, while to the man he had sent an expression sympathetic, affectionate and even a little begging when he had silently asked him not to fight back; but, above all, at any time Jack had seemed aware: in his irises Bunnymund had never seen the opaque veil of submission or devious spells, but only pride and complete autonomy in making any decision.

Insisting was useless, insofar as he could deny, it was obvious that Frost had decided to act like that, so, albeit with burning regret, the Pooka admitted that the boy had wanted to be alone with Pitch; however, had he also wanted what had happened after that? And had Pitch deserved such a gift?

As an involuntary response Jack let out a faint moan, slightly moving the hand which had slipped against his chest and calling the Boogeyman; Pitch, waking up from slumber, raised on his elbow and checked his partner: he settled better his hoodie, which, rising, had tightened a little around his thin neck, then he gently intertwined his fingers with his ones and, after giving him a soft kiss on his temple, he sat down in the hollow upon his shoulder. It was strange, terribly strange, but, at that moment, that scene didn't seem so wrong to him: the sweetness and the kindness of the man had been disarming and Jack's satisfied reaction had been so tender that Bunnymund had barely hold back a smile. That warm nest in which Pitch had rested his head seemed tailor-made for him, his hooked nose fit with precision the line of Jack's right cheekbone, his limbs were the right length to wrap the boy in an embrace: it seemed their entire bodies had been created to match perfectly.

Oh, what a nonsense was this?! His mind had wandered too far if it had come to develop such a thought! That reflection, however, was a great spark for a very important question: and their souls, how much did they match with each other?

That was the hearth of the matter, the cause of his surge of anger and disgust: he saw only the physical union, but not the sentimental one. He had no idea what the boy felt for the Boogeyman and, about the latter, he knew little or no, just enough to stay away from him: he would have never imagined he might feel something different from hatred and the desire to scare the whole world, and, after seeing him take care of somebody in such a selfless way, he didn't know what to think any more. At first the Pooka had stopped at the surface, deducing the two had had an intercourse and fearing that Jack was not consenting, but now he had discovered that had not been the case and that, under that thin layer of appearance, there was an abyss of feelings.

There was only one solution: take time to grasp everything and slowly get to understand every aspect of the situation, and have a lot of patience. Patience with Pitch, whom he would have certainly met more frequently than in the past and whom he should have restrained himself from attacking, except for serious reasons; patience with Jack, whom he would have to listen to while he explained to him what was so special, in the man, so as to induce him to love him; but, above all, patience with himself: he could not accept everything at once, it was too much, too unnatural, so he just had to let things go as they should go, obviously holding himself from being annoying or rude, but not trying to hide the doubts which gripped him. After all, it was clear that he could have never solved the question alone, so it was better to spare himself the agony of trying to understand all that feelings and take advantage of the aid offered to him by Toothiana, who seemed more expert and certainly more aware than him.

In order to reassure him further more the woman said: «Do not fear, Bunnymund: Jack has never betrayed us and he never will».

Puffing Bunnymund turned and he sarcastically asked: «Well, how do you know all these things?».

«Women's intuition» promptly replied the fairy.

She immediately laughed at her own joke and pulled him into a hug; at first the Easter Bunny got frightened by the sudden and unexpected gesture, but, as soon as he shook himself, he let himself be enveloped by her feathery arms, snuggling into that warm nest in search of compassion.

As if she had heard his request the woman whispered: «Come on, Bunnymund, come on, do not do that! You've fought hundreds of Nightmares in battle and now you don't know how to handle a pair of lovers? Shall I tell you the truth? To me it seems you're a bit jealous».

«I'm not jealous!» snapped the Pooka, but then he corrected himself: «It's just that seeing Jack behave like that leaves me a bit puzzled. We've known each other for months, we've overcome a lot of problems together and I cannot say he has ever mistreated me, but he has always kept the right distance and, when he touched me, he always and immediately played a joke on me. With Pitch instead, well, he behaves completely different: he hugs him, he kisses him, he even came to... to... _that_! Do not misunderstand, I would never want him to do it with me, heel, no! But I would have never imagined that he thinks about those things, and, well, knowing that he even does them, actually, it's so strange...».

«You didn't expect it» concluded Toothiana instead of him with a patronizing voice; «You've always seen him as a kid dedicated to jokes and fun and you never thought he could even think about anything else, and have feelings a bit deeper. It's the same mistake you did with Pitch: you should not stop at the surface. However, don't be sad, you've not only underestimated them, but also yourself: you can understand all these things, and be able to feel something more than embarrassment and anger. Your jealousy is already an evidence which shows that you care about Jack more than how you were willing to admit, and now, that you have the impression he has been taken away, you miss his company. But you don't have to fear, he will visit you, as always, and, when he will not be with you, I'll come».

«Mmmh, thank you» murmured Bunnymund with a dreamy expression, tapping one foot on the ground and tilting a little his head to leave space to the fairy who was scratching his ear.

After few seconds, though, he realized the situation and, springing away, he exclaimed: «What are you doing?!».

With a laugh the Guardian said: «Oh, come on, don't mull over! You are you too serious, Bunnymund! Relax a bit, those scratches were doing good!».

Scratching his nose to make the sweet shivers definitely disappear the Easter Bunny made a sly expression and ventured: «Tell me, Tooth, you're not making a pass at me, are you?».

«No, you're a great friend, but you really have too much fur for me» said Toothiana in a serious voice.

«Said the canary!».

«Hey! Don't you dare!» replied the fairy, offended.

«You haven't complained with Pitch» commented the Pooka.

Lifting her eyes, but barely holding back a smile, the woman concluded: «Oh, Bunnymund, you're always as touchy as the same! At least you've finally smiled again. Now, however, let's cut it out: we've peeked at them enough, so let's leave the doves and go away! Or, maybe, would you prefer to watch what they do when they are awake?».

«No, no, let's go now!» cried Bunnymund.

Immediately he pricked up his ears, as he was alarmed, and he crouched to leap away; Toothiana forerun him, giggling and flying silently through the trees, but he lingered few seconds to look at the two lovers in the clearing. There was still one thing he was not convinced of, a question which gnawed at his brain and he could not get out of the mind, but that was not the right moment to check it out: he should wait to wait to be alone. With a leap he left, vanishing in a flash from the hideout where he had holed up until that moment, and, running fast in the undergrowth, he went to the Tooth’s Palace, where all the Guardians were waiting for him.

 

 

 

New images from a friend!!!

 

<http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/179/7/4/1012741_10200295278328702_1357916924_n_by_bennucciacartuccia-d6b3irg.jpg>

 

<http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/179/a/0/1044368_10200295277608684_812172448_n_by_bennucciacartuccia-d6b3ipe.jpg>

 

<http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/179/d/2/1013655_10200295277088671_2073897252_n_by_bennucciacartuccia-d6b3iqi.jpg>

 

<http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/179/3/2/7299_10200295276648660_2145665561_n_by_bennucciacartuccia-d6b3it3.jpg>

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm early, I know, but, since I'm already home and tomorrow I will be really busy, I decided to update this evening ^^ I will publish the next chapter on Tuesday evening, see you soon!
> 
> p.s. About the fanart! All the dialogues and the thoughts are the same of the fanfiction, and, in the third fanart, both Tooth and Bunny are called "prying". I'm sorry I didn't changed the drawing adding the translation, but I would have found it disrespectful towards the gentle girl who made them


	16. Chapter 16

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 16**

 

 

 

All his friend had tried to convince him that he shouldn't worry about the relationship between Pitch and Jack: Jack himself first, then the other Guardians, then, in private, Toothiana, and finally, again, all the Guardians together. They had repeated him again and again that it was all right, that the Boogeyman had never forced his lover to do anything he did not want to, that he had never injured him seriously or against his will, that, albeit in his own way, he had always been kindly thoughtful, but none of those speeches had managed to reassure him whole hog, and the doubt he had had since he had come into the guilty clearing with the fairy had done nothing but grow, coming more and more often to his mind until it had become a veritable obsession.

That was the reason why, after some time spent exploring Toothiana’s Palace and praising everybody for the great work they had done, he had quickly concocted an excuse and he had left: he could not, he should not allow himself not checking. As quickly as when he had left he had run to the hidden place, with the heart in his throat, not because of the hurry, but because of fear: fear that Frost had been forced to have an intercourse with Pitch. It was not difficult for him to imagine that evil beast touching the boy with avid hands, at first refraining himself, in order to deceive him with cuddles and caresses, then going down and down, ignoring his protests, imposing himself in areas which he would have never even dared to think about and, finally, tying him to take advantage of him all the way and meet his unhealthy cravings; and, no doubt, if Jack had not objected strongly enough to reject him, it was only because he was blinded by the false promises of the man, by the love he felt for him and the dread of something he didn't know.

Several clues supported his hypothesis: the boy had looked visibly weary and shaken, his eyes were red as if he had cried, he had a large bruise and clear signs of bites on his neck and, on the wrists, reddish streaks, easily attributable to constrictive tiers; however, the most important reason that made him believe his assumption was that he still couldn't accept the idea that Frost had voluntarily decided to completely give himself to the Boogeyman: just the thought that he could also have given him his purity, as well as his heart, bewildered and disturbed Bunnymund.

Taking a deep breath he tried to reassure himself: probably the boy was far too carefree, but certainly not stupid, and he would never have offered his body and his soul to a wicked creature, able only to corrupt and destroy everything it touched. Yes, he should trust him and his judgement more, he certainly had not made such a mess of himself, and, when the Pooka would have had the confirmation of that, he would have repaid without hesitation the debt he had towards him, saving him from a life of hardship and misery, as well as Frost had saved him from dissolving forever.

Without making the slightest noise he put a paw over the log behind which he was hidden and he settled the fronds of the bush in front of him: he wanted to be completely covered, so as not to influence, with his presence, the behaviour of Pitch or Jack and be able to leap out at the right moment, taking the enemy by surprise; while he was still moving he heard a faint moan, so, at light speed, he flattened on the ground, immediately glancing at them in order not to miss any detail of the scene and getting ready to intervene.

Peering through the leaves he saw the boy awoke slowly, stirring a little before he opened his eyes and barely raising on his elbow: he looked around, blinking as to familiarize with the surroundings, and, after a while, he noticed the arm that encircled his waist. Without hesitation he grabbed it, intertwining his fingers to its and bringing its palm on his heart, then he laid back and, like a kitten, he arched his spine, rubbing his back against the partner to get his attention.

With a groan the Boogeyman stirred, hiding his face in the hollow between the shoulder and the neck of the other as to protect himself, but finally he gave in and woke up; he raised up on his left forearm, still a little sleepy, and, lowering his eyes on Frost, he asked: «Are you already awake, Jack?».

«Yes!» promptly answered the boy; «What will we do?».

«Mh, Jack, I woke up only few seconds ago, you're too demanding» commented the man, with an annoyed voice but a smile on his lips.

«But I missed you! I want to make up for the lost time!».

«Oh, but the somersault of few hours ago made you gaining several points, you know, ardent colt?» teased him Pitch with a mischievous tone.

«Oh, yes, so many points that you got worn out, am I wrong, perfect Pureblood?» taunted Frost.

«Don't be silly!» snapped the other, finally shaking himself; «I'm just saying that there is no hurry: unless you have to build up other palaces, we have all the time we want. Now take off your hoodie».

At that statement Bunnymund's blood froze, but Jack laughed, amused, and said: «Good thing that there was no hurry!».

With a grin Pitch helped him taking off the clothes, undressing from the waist up and devouring that hyaline flesh with his eyes; without further ado he pushed the boy prone, sitting on his thighs and pulling the black blanket almost to uncover his buttocks. At that gesture the Pooka crouched, preparing to spring: he saw the Boogeyman stretching his hands towards Frost, evoking his tentacles of darkness and... starting a massage. Astonished he froze, unable to turn away from the man, who, unaware of being observed, was deftly and meticulously continuing his work: he slowly passed the opened palms from the waist up to the shoulders, easily sliding easily on that pale skin thanks to the magic sand, brushing all his back chest, but lingering more on certain spots; Jack, meanwhile, had settled in a comfortable position and let without a word his partner court him, relaxing under his touch, and even awarding him with a moan when he felt him pushing on a contract muscle.

After few minutes Pitch bent on his protruding shoulder blade, redrawing it with his lips and going up with a long trail of kisses along his spine, until he reached the nape, then he whispered: «Are you fine, Jack?».

«I think so... Ouch! Wait» exclaimed the boy, stiffening and pulling his arm.

Worried the man moved away, sitting down next to him and ready to help; he took care of him as he stood all fours, and he rejoiced when he saw him raise his head towards him.

«Yes, it's all right, especially now!» concluded Frost.

Without warning he leaped on him and started to tickle him on the hips; caught by surprise, the Boogeyman let the other sit on him, squirming to avoid his attack and not managing to hold back a laughter, and Bunnymund had to cover his ears with his paws in the attempt not to prick them up: he would have never expected to hear that sound coming out from his enemy's mouth. It was terribly odd because there was nothing abnormal in it: happy, melodious, so spontaneous to be disarming; it was as absurd as true: the Lord of Nightmares could have fun in a cheerful way, just like any other creature.

With a sudden movement the man grabbed the boy from his wrists, blocking them next to his head to catch his breath for a moment, then he murmured with a mischievous tone: «Oh, Jack, you shouldn't tease who plays better than you».

Immediately two coils of sand came out from his fingers, going along the forearms of Jack and twisting around his chest, and it was the turn of Frost to laugh and try to escape the sweet torture.

With difficulty he blurted out: «Hey, no, this is not fair!».

«Oh, really?» teased Pitch; «But pounce on me without warning and starting tickling me was fair? After I had made your back pain fade away? What a nice way to thank me!».

Despite what he had just said he slowly withdrew the tentacles, making them lingering on his partner's hips to steal him a moan, then he freed him; with a little sigh the boy settled back astride his stomach, then he snuggled on his chest and rubbed his nose against his sternum, and the Boogeyman rewarded him, starting to make scratch him behind the ears.

They stayed in that position for several minutes, lost in each other's arms, exchanging thoughtful caresses but no words, as if the silence, for them, was not a moment of awkward pause, but an opportunity for a share so intimate it didn't need to be expressed orally; they seemed to be used to that kind of situation, and Bunnymund could not deny that they looked just meant for each other. They were so sweet, so whole, so perfectly united to breathe in sync, and, above all, they seemed happy as never before: even the Pooka understood that separate them at that moment would have been just a wanton cruelty. Unconsciously he stuck out a little his muzzle, as if, having a better view of the scene, he could take part to it better and understand more, but, hearing Frost speaking, he quickly flattened himself.

«What have you been up?» Jack asked in a gentle tone.

The man thought for a moment, continuing to cuddle him, then he answered: «Well, I have a new pet I want to show you: I've finally stabilized it. Oh, and there's another surprise: you know that anniversary falls today? I'll give you a clue: it is an astronomical event».

The boy frowned, then he ventured: «Mh, maybe night falls?!».

«Jack» snapped Pitch, barely holding back a laugh; «Tonight the Blood Moon will rise. I guess you don't know what I'm talking about, am I wrong? It's a rare event, a total eclipse with the moon in perigee».

«Oh, okay, I understood» murmured Jack, scratching behind his ear.

«It is not true, you didn't understand a damn thing, am I wrong, huh, Jack Frost?» teased him the Boogeyman ruffling his hair; «The moon will be in the position where it is closest to the Earth and it will be as red as blood. The peak of this event should last about two hours or less».

«But nobody ever told me these things before, how could I know them? Can we watch it together? In the meantime, maybe will you tell me something about astronomy?» begged the boy, raising to face him.

«All right, Jack, you blockhead, let's see if I can teach you something! I know a perfect place from which we can enjoy the show» whispered the man, caressing his cheek.

Frost seemed not to have even heard the small provocation and he stood motionless, lost in the irises of the other as the other was lost in his; it was completely obvious that he slowly bend down, closing his eyes and resting his lips on his partner's one, at first just brushing them, then pressing to deepen the contact. With an unbearable calm Pitch opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue to draw the lover in a sensual dance and gently caressing his back, and Bunnymund froze, confused: he didn't know what to think any more. Rationally, he felt a sharp rejection of that scene, seeing it as an abomination and a betrayal, repeating himself that it could not exist in the world a thing more wrong and unnatural; instinctively, however, he couldn't help but find it touching and full of tenderness, clearly perceiving that the two souls who stood in front of him were linked as never before and completed each other, reaching a serenity that he had rarely seen in other creatures; finally, his most discreet side couldn't help but feel embarrassed to see two persons, one of whom he had been sure to be acquainted with, involved in an embrace so languid, knowing, moreover, they had gone beyond.

While he was still racking his brain, trying in vain to see his way through all the concerns which distressed him, the Boogeyman grabbed Jack by the hips and inverted the positions, forcing him under himself and dominating in the kiss; however, while the Pooka got worried, seriously thinking it could be better intervening immediately, the boy smiled, sighing and rubbing the partner's neck and chest with his tapering fingers.

After few seconds the two broke the kiss and, giggling, Frost commented: «Pitch, you're always the same».

«You know that I'm the one who dominates, and it is obvious that I should stand on top» replied the man with a grin.

«Really? It's weird, I thought you liked a lot those moments where you've been under me» teased the boy.

«Oh, well, sometimes I like to see how you take the initiative» said Pitch; «But don't kid yourself: I will never leave the leash long for more than few moments».

Now sure his enemy had bad intentions the Easter Bunny got ready to leap out of his hiding place, but for the umpteenth time Jack surprised him, laughing and exclaiming: «You love this nasty talks, don't you?».

«Of course» said the Boogeyman; «I adore hearing you talking nasty, but, most of all, I adore demolish your provocations».

Sticking his tongue out the boy replied: «The truth is that you like to joke».

«Yes» admitted the man.

As he spoke he rolled his eyes, as if he were talking about a small thing, but soon he stared again at his partner with a possessive gaze and he concluded: «But I was not joking about an important thing: you are mine, mine and only mine, and you must never forget this».

«I know» whispered Frost, sealing that sentence with a quick kiss.

Those two little words were a real shock for Bunnymund: how could he say such a thing? How could he accept so easily a statement so tyrannical? Maybe had he sold himself to the enemy? In that case, why had Toothiana assured him with such certainty that it was not so?

«For all the carrots, I'll go crazy before the sunset!» thought the Pooka clutching his head with his paws: the two lovers were behaving always unexpected and unpredictable, and it seemed they had agreed to confuse him until they drove him mad.

«Maybe it's better if we get ready, it's almost the sunset» suggested Pitch.

Received a positive response he raised and began to untangle the blanket, imitated by Frost.

Immediately the Easter bunny flattened, focusing on a venemous mushroom half hidden in the moss to leave a bit of intimacy to the two lovers: it was intrusive and disrespectful enough eavesdropping, as he had hitherto done, and he didn't want to exaggerate. It wasn't necessary peeking at them even in that moment, and certainly he didn't want to see naked neither the one nor the other, albeit for completely different reasons.

Inhaling deeply he concentrated to dismiss the thoughts from his mind: he wouldn't want to let himself to get distracted and lose a part of the conversation, so he kept his ears open to raise at the right moment. For a full minute he heard only rustling and broken sentences, a sign that the two were dressing up; then, sure that the preparation had been completed, he dared to stick out his nose and he saw an incredible thing: the boy was sitting on a large and irregular boulder and the Boogeyman was kneeling in front of him, concentrated to tie the laces he wore on his calves. His slender fingers slipped without hesitation along the Jack's leg, recreating with no mistakes all the crossings and then fastening the lace with a small bow just below his knee: it was clear that it was not the first time he did that.

Opening wide his eyes and mouth in amazement, Bunnymund watched him checking his work and stood up, and he almost struggled to hear what he said.

«Do you want to see my new pet?».

«Sure!» replied the boy, curious.

Grinning the man stepped back and took a deep breath, exposing the neck and joining his hands on his chest; then, with a sinuous movement, he stretched them forward, opening them: black sand went out of his palms, capriciously intertwining in his fingers and moving forward in thin tentacles; the coils of fog curled out in front of him, weaving with each other and finally creating a defined shape: a Nightmare.

Frost opened wide his irises, staring at the creature as he had been bewitched, and Bunnymund himself couldn't help but doing the same: it was truly a magnificent beast. The legs long and slender, the body thin but smooth, the willowy neck, the muzzle narrow and graceful, every line seemed to have been studied for years and continuously improved to achieve perfection; the tail and the mane, then, were so beautiful to leave the spectator breathless: thick, pitch black but lit by tiny sparkling crystals, as the night by the stars, they were made up of several, wild strands, deftly arranged in order to fall in soft waves. It seemed incredible, but every sinuous curve of that profile oozed with lust: you couldn't help but look at it in awe, letting yourself being bewitched by its beauty, sliding your opacified eyes along those agile muscles, hesitantly stretching your hands to touch that coat of pure velvet, and, no doubt, once you had perceived that soft fur under your fingertips, you would no longer have been able to detach from it.

Slowly approaching the boy whispered: «It's beautiful».

«Do you like it? I called it “Voluptas”. I can't give it to you, cause, probably, it won't last long, but it's your Nightmare» murmured Pitch, kneeling behind the partner and hugging him tightly.

«My Nightmare?» incredulously asked Jack.

«Yes. It's born on Christmas Eve, while I was thinking about you, and, indeed, if you were a Nightmare you'd be like it» explained the Boogeyman.

The boy blushed and, trying to divert the discussion to dispel the embarrassment, he said: «Its eyes are different than usual: they are not cruel, and it seems calm, not aggressive like the other Nightmares. How is this possible?».

«Oh, Jack, I told you that, if you were a Nightmare, you would be like it, and I wasn't kidding: it's not evil, you can go and stroke it» encouraged him the man.

Hesitant, Frost stretched out his arm and placed his palm on the forehead of the creature, trembling when it dilated its nostrils and smiling when he realized it didn't attack him. Suddenly shaking himself he turned and asked: «How could this Nightmare be so quiet and mild?».

«Jack, Jack, not all the Nightmares are made to scare» started Pitch; «There are different categories, and each has its own task. I am sure that you've found Voluptas incredibly attractive, and it could not be otherwise: he was born for that».

«Categories?» asked the boy, puzzled young; «I thought they were all the same. I never thought there could be a hierarchy among similar creatures: I was shallow, I'm sorry. What categories do exist?».

«It 's normal to think that, and, anyway, I was the one who ruled them and diversified their tasks according to their abilities: if I had left them in the wild you would have find them much more aggressive and instinctive, but also more chaotic and dull. Now, however, it's late and it's better to leave: I'll explain you all you want to know as soon as we'll arrive» suggested the Boogeyman.

Jack promptly freed himself from his arms and went to pick up his staff, while the man stood up and, alongside the Pureblood, he intertwined his fingers in the evanescent mane; with an arrogant smile he asked: «Oh, Jack, you're tired and your back hurts, how do you think you'll be able fly up to the place where I want to bring you?».

«I'm not so tired!» replied the boy, angry and embarrassed; «And, moreover, have you a better plan in mind?».

«Mh, have you ever heard the myth of Hades and Persephone?» prompted Pitch.

«I don't think so, I don't remember those names» mused Frost, scratching his head.

«Well, it means that I'll tell you during the travel» concluded the Boogeyman with a sly smile.

In a flash he leapt into saddle of Voluptas, which whinnied and galloped off: the boy realized what was happening and tried to escape, but in few seconds the partner reached him and, elegantly leaning, he grabbed him by the waist and dragged him with him, making him sit in front of him and laughing at his protests. He gently restrained a little the creature, in order to let Jack sit more comfortably and holding him tightly to prevent it from falling, then they rode away together, turning towards a gap among the mountains and disappearing on the horizon, with a laugh and a hug.

With a sigh half liberating and half frustrated Bunnymund could finally raise his long ears and place the muzzle and the front paws on the log behind which he had hidden himself hitherto: nothing had gone in the way he had hoped. He had imagined a very different scene, with Pitch wicked and evil profiteer and a Jack too good and afraid to reject him, but, instead, he had found the first one sweet and thoughtful, albeit possessive, and the second one happy and not sorry or upset at all by what had happened just few hours before. By now it was useless to deny it, the boy was really in love with the man and had given him all of himself, he rejoiced in his company and he talked freely with him; the absurdity was that it seemed that the Boogeyman did the same. It seemed impossible that the King of Nightmares himself could have positive feelings, yet his every gesture showed how much he loved Frost: he would have never renounced his company and, probably, he would have never hesitated to crush all the obstacles which would have come between them. Characterized him was not easy: at times he was far too possessive, at times tender and loving, and it was still hard, for the Pooka, to fully trust him; however, he had understood an important thing: Pitch would have never been evil or cruel with the boy.

Taking this certainty as a consolation he tried to cheer up and joke with himself: at least he would have not had to follow them everywhere to make sure that Jack was not hurt! He could let them go wherever they wanted and spend some time together keeping calm: unfortunately it immediately came to his mind the vision of the two lovers lovers naked, clinging to one another and passionately lost in a union far more languid than their last kiss.

With a cry of fear the Easter Bunny jumped up, terrified, rubbing his eyes and repeating to himself: «I must keep calm, I must keep calm, I must keep calm and not have stupid thoughts!».

«You look a little shaken. Tell me, have you seen something which upset you?» asked a gentle voice behind him.

With a start Bunnymund turned around and saw, few inches far from his muzzle, two fuchsia irises he knew well; jumping back in fright he stumbled into the log, falling on the ground, and he exclaimed: «Tooth! What are you doing here?!».

«I should ask it to you!» snapped the fairy, clearly upset; «You told us that you urgently need to return to your warren to fix a major issue and, instead, where do I find you? Hidden in my undergrowth like a thief and peering at Pitch and Jack! Shame on you! What did you hope to see, uh?».

Hit where it hurt by that argument the Pooka stammered: «Oh, no, for all the carrots, no! H-how can you say such a thing!? I would have felt...! Oh, damn, no! I was here to make sure that Jack was okay, I swear, I did want to peer at them!».

«Oh, sure, of course, the Man in the Moon forced you to look at them, right? Do not kid me! Be aware that the fact that you still don't trust Pitch enough to leave him alone with Jack doesn't justify you at all! Shame on you, shame on you again! I hope that, at least, you were smart enough not to get caught: I can only imagine how angry Pitch would have got, if he had knew you were here, and he would have had every reason! Now you'll come back with me to my palace and you''l have a talk with me and the other! Come on, move!» yelled the woman.

For the last time the Easter Bunny tried to justify himself, but in vain: Toothiana firmly grabbed him by the ear and dragged him away with her, ignoring his weepings and protests which echoed for miles through the forest and continuing to rebuke him.

 

 

 

Here you can find two beautiful fanarts made for me by Syryus90!

 

[ http://syryus90.deviantart.com/art/Pitch-and-Jack-and-Bunnymond-428969887?q=gallery%3ASyryus90%2F15249725&qo=4 ](http://syryus90.deviantart.com/art/Pitch-and-Jack-and-Bunnymond-428969887?q=gallery%3ASyryus90%2F15249725&qo=4)

 

[ http://syryus90.deviantart.com/art/Pitch-and-Jack-and-Voluptas-428970646?q=gallery%3ASyryus90%2F15249725&qo=3 ](http://syryus90.deviantart.com/art/Pitch-and-Jack-and-Voluptas-428970646?q=gallery%3ASyryus90%2F15249725&qo=3)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ^^ next chapter will be published on Saturday!


	17. Chapter 17

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 17**

 

 

 

With a sigh, Jack settled back between the Nightmare's neck and Pitch: the man had just finished to tell him the myth of Hades and Persephone, an attempt to apologise for the rocambolesque kidnapping, and the boy, tired of sulking, had expressed his appreciation for the story and kept quiet to enjoy the trip. He would have never believed it, but that ride was incredibly comfortable: the evanescent mane intertwined into his legs and arms, tickling him, the pace the creature kept was fast, but steady, so it enabled him not to strive too much to remain in the saddle, and the fact that its hooves didn't hit the ground saved his back painful jolts; the thing he liked most, however, was the sweet hug in which the Boogeyman had hold him tightly to prevent him from slipping down: it made him feel protected, like on firm ground, but, above all, loved.

At that thought he couldn't help but smile: the man hadn't responded him yet and he seemed to become very clumsy when he declared his love, to such an extent that Frost had decided to pronounce that short sentence only before falling asleep exhausted, in order to save him the embarrassment of looking for an excuse to change the subject. It was almost astonishing how the King of Nightmares himself, always confident and expert with words, could become so shy and reluctant when Jack spoke about that, regularly falling and starting to dodge his gaze, but the boy rejoiced every time: Pitch always tried to divert the conversation, but he had never ran away and, on those occasions, he had always started to gently cuddle him. For other people this might seem not that much, but Jack was proud of it: staying with him on those occasions so bravely, despite his nature, was the best demonstration of love that the Boogeyman could give him, and the best the boy could wish for.

«Here we are, Jack» warned him the man.

Frost didn't even ask him where he intended to land: a hundred yards away he saw a rocky ledge not too wide, the only clear island in the middle of those mountains covered with lush vegetation; bounded on the North by the forest's border was rather well exposed on its other sides, allowing you to see the landscape for miles around, and tiny white dots adorned his grass.

It took not long time to the boy to identify those flowers such as snowdrops and he couldn't help but blush, pleased by such an attention: Pitch always cared about every detail, although he tried to show it as little as possible, and certainly he hadn't chosen that clearing, among all the places of the Earth he knew, only because of the beautiful landscape. It was probable that that secret garden was the place where he used to go when he thought of him and he couldn't see him: Frost could perfectly figure him, languidly laying among the blade of grass, intent to inhale the heady scent of the white lilies that surrounded the clearing and holding in his slender fingers a little snowdrops.

Oh, what he would have not given to be able to watch him, and how bad he would have wanted pounce in his arm, laughing, and finally stealing him the desired declaration! No doubt, though, the Boogeyman would have jumped away, feeling ashamed beyond imagination for being surprised dreaming about him and angry for such an intrusion: probably he would have angrily sulked for days, so, for Jack, it was better not to see him, in order not to fall into the temptation to play him the umpteenth joke.

Unable, however, to hold back his playful nature to the end, Jack got ready and, as soon as the Nightmare glided on the clearing, he broke free and jumped off: as he expected the man startled and leaned over to grab him but, in doing so, he slipped from the mount. Too unbalanced to be able to support themselves Pitch wrapped him tightly in a hug and turned to protect him, in order to fall on his right side and leave the boy completely unharmed.

With a worried voice he asked: «Jack! Are you fine?».

With a sly smile Frost put his crossed arms crossed on his partner's chest, placing his chin on them, and answered with nonchalance: «Sure, never better than now».

Suddenly realizing he had been tricked, the Boogeyman blurted out: «You're the usual idiot, you did it on purpose!».

«I just paid you back for your "fox hunting"» retorted the boy.

«Oh, are still offended by that, little snow fox?» mocked him the man.

Blushing because of the nickname Jack moved away to leave him space, and his partner took the opportunity to crawl and sit at the feet of a large clump beside him; calmly he draped his robe, in order not to crumple it nor choke a little patch of wild snowdrops, then he opened his legs and lured him with a mischievous smile: «Come here, little fox».

The boy didn't need to be asked twice and he crawled towards him, sitting on his lap and rubbing his nose against his neck, as he always did to move him, and, as always, Pitch rewarded him, tenderly scratching his back. They stood into each other's arms still for a moment, motionless, then Frost remembered a loose end and, raising himself, he asked: «Pitch, what category does Voluptas belong to?».

«Do you want me to explain you how Nightmares are branched?» demanded the Boogeyman.

«Yes, I'm curious, I know nothing about them» said Frost, moving away the bare minimum to be able to stare at (into) his eyes.

«Okay, now I'll tell you everything» began the man; «First of all, as you may have noticed, there are Nightmares of different sizes, from those so small they can be held in your arms up to those large enough to be ridden. The difference lies only in their effectiveness: the smaller one are only bad dreams and they can be easily dissolved by a simple little light in a room; those of medium bulk are already remarkable Nightmares and they can haunt a child throughout an entire night; finally, the most impressive are the Pureblood, powerful enough to send into a panic entire neighborhoods until morning. Every new born Nightmare is small and needs to choose weak and alone victims, in order not to risk to be dissolved; the more children he frightens, the more stronger it becomes, gaining in size and effectiveness, and, if it manages to make a child believe in me, it transforms into a Pureblood, the darkness made perfection. I have several of them, the brightest jewels of my dark army: I love setting them free and watch the deadly precision with which they carry out their task».

In uttering the last sentence Pitch had unwittingly made his dreamy gaze wander along the horizon, and the boy chuckled, seeing him so lost; with a smile he commented: «I had no doubt that they were your favourites! So Voluptas is a Pureblood, isn't it?».

«Yes, and it is also the only one which is born already perfectly formed: I have no idea of the reason of this, it had never happened before» said the Boogeyman, thoughtfully; «Anyway, that was not the more interesting partition: according to their talents and inclinations the Nightmares carry out different tasks. Those which you have known so far are Parasomnia, and their sole purpose is to frighten: they are aggressive, but smart, they never attack blindly and they always know what are the weak points they can strike to bring their victims on their knees. There are several subtypes: the Phobiae, for example, evoke images of the greatest fears of the specific child, the Pavores, on the contrary, play on the most common fears, such as the one of darkness, heights and loneliness; the Amnesiae draw the child in difficult situations and prevent him from remembering how to get out of them, the Haunters, instead, continue to present him the same memory until it becomes an obsession. Not every beast is able to cause real nightmares: the Anxiae, for example, lays on their victims, encumbering on their chest until they block their breathing and make them feel a growing sense of oppression, the Innexiae, instead, paralyse them, making them feel trapped».

Puzzled Jack said: «You're using a lot of female names: I've always believed your Nightmares were males».

«Actually they're neither of them: they are Nightmares, no matter whether they belong to a specific gender» continued the man with a smile; «Sometimes, when they find it useful, they can bring out their feminine or masculine side, but, in general, this depends on the situation and the Nightmare in question, not the class which it belongs to. I have to admit, however, that I noticed that the distribution is not perfectly uniform: for example, normally the Amnesie are mares, while the Innexiae are stallions».

«Voluptas doesn't belong to any of these classes, does it?» asked the boy, more and more intrigued.

«No, Voluptas is a special Nightmare: it's not born to scare, but to lure. How do you find it?».

Frost, who, until then, had gazed the gold, iridescent irises of his partner, turned to look at Voluptas that, ignoring the fall of the two riders, had landed softly few meters ahead. The Pureblood was comfortably crouched among the grass blades and the flowers, slightly lying down on a side in order to stretch better its tapered legs, and it was arranging its long tail; however, as soon as it realized that the boy was staring at him, it turned and stared at him in return, at first bewitching him with its eyes as bright as topaz, then moving up his muzzle and exposing the cheek and neck in a natural and irresistible arching that drew his gaze further down along his sinuous body: it was undeniable, that Nightmare, which seemed so much a piece of starry sky fallen on Earth, was not only beautiful, but also terribly sensual.

Trying not to get too distracted Jack answered: «It 's beautiful, but not only that: it is also sensual, it seems it wants to seduce me every time I observe it. It 's strange, because rationally I would say that he reminds me of you: after all it's a Nightmare, the eyes and the fur are very similar to yours and it has the same moves a bit languid; instinctively, however, I understand that it is not so: his look is not caring and possessive as yours, it seems more it wants to lure me and be captured».

Hearing the last sentence Pitch laughed and exclaimed: «I told you from the outset that, if you were a Nightmare, you would you be like it! We both know how much you love to get captured».

Immediately the boy blushed, unable to deny the evidence, and, in the attempt to divert the conversation, he blurted out: «Well, for sure I don't behave so sensual».

«Oh, are you sure of that, ardent colt?» insinuated the Boogeyman with a mischievous smile; «You underestimate yourself: you can be seductive as it and even more. You move in a more sensual way than you think, and when you relax a bit, oh, if only you could see yourself: you're so languorous, so eager, it's irresistible the way you open your legs and give yourself whole hog, offering your chest and neck and enjoying to be watched. I really can't understand how you can hope to make me believe you are not seductive: in those moments every little inch of your skin oozes with lust in its purest form, and your eyes are no less so...».

«Okay, okay, I understood, you wanted to embarrass me and you managed to, are you happy now?» interrupted him Frost, who had turned bright red.

Taking a deep breath he tried to think of a sentence more effective to silence him, or at least to retort, but nothing came to his mind: the truth was that the man had hit him where it hurt. Since their first time they had had sex to the boy had learned to appreciate his partner's possessive looks and, though, at every their meeting, he initially behaved shyly and tried to cover himself, it never took long time to him to at ease enough to give himself to him: he loved the way his fire irises pierced him, paralysing with the power of their spell, making him shiver deep down, devouring his flesh and soul. He madly desired those gazes, hard and sensual at the same time, he yearned the chills they gave him and he knew he sought them every time, but he had never thought he had assumed such an evident behaviour, and a growing fear crept into him.

Puffing he stirred a little, as if to find a more comfortable position, in the attempt not to let the Boogeyman guess that something worried him, but deceiving the man wasn't easy at and, in fact, he promptly whispered: «Jack, what's wrong?».

«Oh, nothing, don't worry» beat around the bush Jack.

Soon, however, he sighed and gave up: lying to the Lord of Nightmares was useless, and the doubt that gripped him was too great to be ignored.

«You're right, Pitch, I like when you look at me. Your gaze is so eager and possessive, every time you look at me I feel like I'm drowning in your irises and, at the same time, like I'm almost burning: the way you make me feel trapped is all absorbing and I love to see how much you desire me. However, I...».

Seeing him in trouble the man spoke up: «I am flattered by this, Jack, it's brave of you to give yourself and admit to desire me. But do not think, eve just for a moment, that I believe you're an easy boy who thinks only about pleasure and enjoys his own lust: You're beautiful and I have no criticism to advance».

At these words the boy opened wide his eyes: he would have never expected that the partner would have immediately guessed the problem, and least of all that he would have consoled him so effectively. Jack had already talked about intimate matters with him in the past, but he had always had to drive him, fully explaining what he wanted to discuss about, and be content more than with gestures of understanding that with words, because Pitch was still a bit clumsy in showing kindness with them, while he found very natural to express himself with the firsts. It was the first time the man came forward like that, and he didn't even seem embarrassed: he was indeed slowly changing himself.

With a smile full of gratitude Frost threw his arms around his neck and whispered: «Thank you».

In response, the Boogeyman caressed his back to calm him, then he murmured: «Never change, sweetie. Never stop to show yourself: I love watching you while you give yourself».

They sought each other at the same time, pressing their mouth and opening them almost immediately in order to deepen the contact. The kiss was slow and passionate: the boy clung to his shoulders and let him dominate, and the man gladly accepted, languidly brushing his tongue with his own, passing the open palm on his chest to intensify the chills, stealing him sighs until he literally left him out of breath. He moved away only when he felt that Jack could no longer follow him, and, panting, he stared at him with a grin, running his irises along his body, from the waist to the face, licking his own lips when he met his gaze; the boy immediately understood the reason of that gesture and turned his head, blushing, but he quickly looked at him again with a smile, shy and mischievous at the same time, caring to expose his neck.

They laughed in unison and Pitch whispered: «Good job, colt: you've learned well».

Hearing again that epithet the boy's cheeks reddened even more: he felt embarrassment almost every time the man called him in that way, but he also felt flattered, because he knew that it was a compliment, not an insult, and, above all, because that nickname, along with all the others, was a gentle and indirect proof of the Boogeyman's love for him. However, well aware of how the other adore to see him act reticently, he snapped: «Stop calling me "colt"! Anyway, speaking of which, why there are Nightmares born to lure?».

«Some children are very resistant to fear» said the man; «Children to whom parents gives too much responsibilities too soon and who strive at all costs in order not to fail, children left to themselves who decide not to shut away but to go on by themselves, or children who think they are old or brave enough not to be afraid of something. With them the normal Nightmares don't work well: only the most powerful can cause them bad dreams, but they still manage to resist, quite often they wake up and, at that point, they can calm down and go back to sleep serene. The problem is that they are always on the alert, because they don't want to disappoint themselves or other people starting to cry, so they keep their guard constantly raised: the Nightmares like Voluptas are born exactly to overtake them. They slowly approach the victim, they enchant them with images that make them happy and satisfied, they behave in a luring way to make them feel comfortable and make them lower their guard; at that point, at the best moment, they abandon them, leaving them in the clutches of one Parasomnia or more, and the child experiences one of the worst nightmares that exist, and they can't oppose to it in any way, because they are too stunned and surprised by the sudden change of atmosphere».

Frost agaped after that explanation: he would have never believed the Nightmares could be so well organized. Actually he remembered how they had moved in synchrony during Pitch's attack against the Guardians, months before, but he had settled the matter saying that they were simply perfect and obedient machines in the hands of their Lord: he had never believed they could have their own intelligence and spirit of collaboration. Still shaken he decided to express his surprise: «I never imagined they could do that. Really, I didn't believe they could collaborate together: I've always thought they were too aggressive, but now I see that they know to be extremely methodical and effective. You've trained them really well. I have only a doubt: you send your Nightmares only to children, so, don't you think Voluptas is a bit, how can I say, out of place?».

«Do you mean that you think it's too sensual for a child?» realized the Boogeyman; «Actually it is. Its name is Latin, and means "pleasure", "passion ", or even " lust", depending on the context: for sure it refers to something seductive in the sexual field. I have no idea how a child would react, if he would stay indifferent, be scared or get curious: to be honest I've never used it on anyone, until now. In any case, I think it's more suitable to act on teenagers still a little childish, who are old enough to understand the allusions and be seduced, but also young enough to be scared by a Nightmare».

Curious the boy asked: «Did you choose its name, don't you?».

«Not quite right» admitted the man, thoughtful; «I simply saw its birth and immediately that name came to my mind: it was perfect, it embodied the Nightmare in every shade of its meaning, so it must be its. The Latin lends itself to this: every word has several possible interpretations, so it is deeper and more evocative than most of the modern terms and also carries with itself an aura of mystery. In most cases there is not a unique and reliable translation, so, to grasp the meaning, you must let your instinct guide you: how does the word “voluptas” sound to you?».

Jack couldn't help but smile, amused: Pitch's deep voice made any word sound sensual, and, if the term was already luring on his own, he made it seem full of lustful promises. Striving to get serious again he replied: «It's melodious, neither too short nor too long and with the right vowels to tickle your nerves: I feel it languidly slipping out of your lips on mine, and then going down like a shiver through my skin».

«Oh, I didn't know you were a poet, Jack!» teased him the Boogeyman.

«I'm not as stupid as you think, did you know?» exclaimed the boy, hurt.

«I've never said you're stupid, Jack, except in those moments when you play jokes on me» soothingly whispered the man.

Without hesitation he drew him in a hug and kissed him on the forehead, in order to reassure him, and Frost was immensely grateful to him: he hadn't received a deep education when he was still a human being, and he had already forgotten a great part of what he had been taught in his three hundred years of life as a spirit; until he could have roamed free he had never worried about it, but, when he had become a Guardian, he had realized that he had occasionally needed more explanations than the others when they talked together, and this feeling had increased since he had started seeing Pitch. He was a cultured and elegant man, who showed he had studied a lot, both for the topics proposed and for the language itself he used, more refined than his, and, every time, the boy was torn: on one hand he was happy for him, but on the other hand he felt the weight of his own ignorance becoming unbearable. For the first time in his life he had wanted an education and he had felt ashamed knowing he didn't already have it, but, in that case, he could have never seriously complained about the Boogeyman: actually, with a care and spontaneity worthy of Toothiana, he had immediately and silently volunteered to educate him, teaching something new every time he met him, carrying him to discover with his own eyes what he told him and patiently explaining him everything, and he did the same in that moment.

«Look, Jack, the show has begun. Sit on my lap and, if you want to, I'll explain what's going on» encouraged him the man.

Jack didn't need to be asked twice: he turned around and sat down between his partners spread legs, leaning his back against his chest and his head against his left cheek, then he put his arms on the other's ones, which had gently encircled his waist when he had settled down.

With eyes full of wonder he enjoyed every minute of the show: slowly the moon, which had been more orange than usual since it had risen, turned red, darkening up to take on the colour of dried blood and becoming, finally, completely black, then the process reversed; the phenomenon, visible even more clearly thanks to the period of perigee, lasted around a couple of hours, during which Pitch told him that everything was due to the fact that the satellite, moving, passed on the diametrically opposite side of the Sun against the Earth, and therefore remained in the shadow of the latter.

While the moon turned again, and with no hurry, to its original colour, the boy let out a sigh of relief: finally he had had confirmation that there was no need to worry about in those moments. In the past he had witnessed some lunar eclipses, and the first few times he had been deeply frightened, fearing that something terrible and irreparable could happen to the Man In The Moon; during the years he had realized that that evolution was always reversible and left no traces behind itself, so he had tried to ignore it, but he had always a little scared about that fact he couldn't explain.

While he was thinking about that a doubt came to his mind, so he thoughtfully asked: «Pitch, don't you feel bothered? You stared at the Man In The Moon for a long time».

«No, I don't feel bothered at all: I love to see him helplessly drown in the dark, it's a small consolation victory I allow to myself when he and his Guardians win» said the Boogeyman with an amused tone.

Frost laughed at that statement and was about to comment, but he felt the other stiffening and gnashing his teeth; worried he turned and asked: «Pitch, are you okay?».

The man glared at him with a grim look and, with an angry voice, he said: «Recently may you have forgotten to tell me something, Jack Frost? Maybe something about your stupid friends? I asked you to explain what you meant with "Bunnymund is the only one who doesn't know anything yet" but you've ignored me. _Answer me_ ».

The boy felt his blood turning cold: Pitch called him using his full name only when he was almost mad. Taking a deep breath he prepared himself to an outburst and, to sugar the pill, he began: «Yes, that sentence, I remember: now I'll answer to you and I'll explain everything. There is one thing you must know, one thing that I should have told you a few weeks ago...».

With an abrupt leap the Boogeyman grabbed him by the neck, pulling him against the clump on which he leaned and yelling: «A few weeks ago? _A few weeks ago!?_ Seriously, were you really so forgetful? Do not tease me, Jack Frost, all these preambles and gush do not work with me: cut it out and make everything clear!».

Jack didn't fight, nor tried to free himself: he knew that his partner didn't really intend to hurt him, so he just stared at him, contrite, opening his lips in order to breathe better and starting to gently caress his wrist to calm him down. As he expected in few seconds Pitch realized he had exaggerated: he relaxed his fingers' grip, leaving him the necessary space but not removing the hand, and, though his expression didn't change, the boy saw clearly the repentance at the bottom of his iridescent irises. He rewarded him with a sincere smile: the man had not changed his aggressive attitude, but, after all, Jack couldn't claim it from a proud and dominant mind as his one was; the important thing was that he had not injured him and that, fearing he had done it, he had suddenly made sure to remedy.

Without wasting time Frost confessed: «The other Guardians know we see each other: Bunnymund was the only one who didn't know it, but I guess that now he realized it».

«Oh, seriously, do you think so?» teased him Pitch; «If you care to know he realized it very well! He even came here for an unpleasant visit together with your silly little fairy!».

Opening wide his eyes the boy asked: «Did Tooth come into the clearing? Why did not you wake me up?».

«She didn't want to bother you and, anyway, why the hell should I ever wake you up? To hear you telling more lies?».

«I've never told you a lie!» cried Jack, angry, then, with a sorry look, he whispered:«I just omitted. I was a fool doing that, I admit it, but I just omitted».

«Oh, well, then everything changes, since you have "only" omitted. After all, it's not so serious that you've told the Guardians of our meetings without telling me, is it?» remarked sarcastically the Boogeyman.

«No, I swear, I never told anything of us to them!» stood up the boy; «I would have never told anything without first informing you, I wouldn't have even known how to start to start! They found everything by themselves: Tooth realized that really soon, the first times we met, Sandman saw us kissing and North, well, I have no idea how he knew it, probably someone told him, or maybe he saw us, too, I don't know and I don't care, I just know that they were all already aware of this! The only one who didn't know anything was Bunnymund, because we didn't see him for weeks. Tooth made me understand everything».

"Oh, sure, I know how much you like to chat with that overgrown canary, you two got perfectly together!» snapped the man with a venomous tone.

«Come on, Pitch, do not tell me you're jealous of Tooth! You have no reason to do that!» reassured him Frost.

«I'm jealous of everyone, without distinction! Don't you realize the gravity of the situation? The Guardians hate me, they were born to destroy me, they will never let the abomination continue, they will force you to leave me and keep you in their clutches you until you'll decide to get back to their side!» shouted Pitch.

Growling he stood up and began to walk up and down; immediately the boy joined him and, taking his hands in his ones, he whispered: «No, Pitch, no, you're completely wrong: no one hates you. They are neither disappointed nor unhappy, they never tried to hinder me and, indeed, few hours ago, they convinced me to leave Tooth's Palace to meet you. I swear, Pitch, they don’t want to separate us: they often ask me how are you and how's it going between the two of us».

«It 'obvious that they do it just to spy on my moves and take the best occasion to attack and destroy me! They only want to use you against me, how can you be so stupid as to not understand that they are just trying to bring you completely to their side?».

Hurt by the insult Jack blurted out: «I am a Guardian, too, I never changed "part", so they don't need to bring me back to their!».

«So that's the way things stand! For you the only important creatures are those ridiculous Guardians and the pathetic children who believe in you, right? And maybe you're here with me just to study me and kill me with your own hands» suggested the Boogeyman.

«Pitch, I love you, how could you say such a thing?» asked the boy in a voice broken with grief.

That sentence was a real bitter blow to him: how could he still didn't trust him?

Unable to restrain himself he said: «Now who's the stupid one, huh? Why did I explain you your role in the world and how they the Guardians consider you if then...».

«Enough!» interrupted him the man.

Frost immediately realized the huge mistake he had done: the partner had frozen when he had seen him with tears in his eyes and he had seemed almost about to retrace his steps, but it was enough, for him, to hear him calling him “stupid” to stay on the defensive and embitter it even more.

Narrowing his eyes Pitch was about to leave and the boy cried: «Wait, please, let me talk!».

«I will not listen to you! I'm leaving, and woe betide you if you dare to follow me!» yelled the other.

With few abrupt steps he reached Voluptas, which, in the meantime, had stood up, he got into the saddle and he soon vanished into the night.

Jack stood frozen for several seconds, staring at the sky now empty, unable both to think and move, and, when he finally shook himself, he fell on his knees, violently punching the ground and shouting: «How could you always be so touchy and blind!?».

The small outburst left him exhausted and worn out: he had never wanted anything that had happened in the last minute. Trying to hold back the tears he crossed his arms, as if to console himself with a hug that he would have liked to receive from someone else, and with a sigh he squatted on the grass, reflecting on the last events. He had been a huge fool: he had always known that hide such an important information from the Boogeyman was a big risk, but protracting the silence for a month and a half had been an unfair and unforgivable levity. For sure laughing at his blindness might have been funny the first few days, but, when it had been clear that Pitch would have never realized that on his own, he should have not keeping silent: after all, how would he have feel if he had been in his shoes and he had suddenly discovered a news like that? Until that moment Jack had always justified himself, saying it was more appropriate to wait that also Bunnymund became aware of their relationship, but, actually, he had always known that this excuse was due more to laziness than to pragmatism.

Settling back on the grass he slightly began to caress a snowdrop that grew few inches far from his nose and he tried to calm down: the man was angry with him and he had all the reasons, but he never stopped even for a moment to care about him. He had been rude and violent, as it was his nature, but he hadn't hurt him and, instead, he had made sure not to cause him pain. The most important aspect was, then, that the venomous words he had uttered were caused by anger and the desire to make him understand how serious the situation was from his point of view, not to insult him: he should have guessed from the beginning that the cruel sentence was just a provocation, and not an accusation.

With a sigh he stretched out his legs and laid on his back: arguing with Pitch was so hard! It was, more or less, like walking on ice: one wrong move was enough to slip or even break it. However, there was no reason to worry: after all, in the world could not exist a more experienced person in this activity than him.

Inevitably he started to think about the beloved and he wondered where he could be at that time, feeling a little guilty because he was occupying that special clearing where, no doubt, the Boogeyman would have liked to lie to calm down.

“He's probably wandering aimlessly to let off steam" he said to himself. He knew him very well: as long as it was dominated by anger Pitch was not able to enjoy the fear that the children emanated when they sensed him arriving, so there was no need to worry he could pester some poor, defenceless infants. The risk, if anything, would be succeed later: if the ride had not relaxed him enough, the anger would have turn into cruelty and avenging desire, and he would have flown at light speed in his lair to plan a violent attack.

Without any plausible reason, however, Jack suddenly remembered the compliments he had received and the understanding that the partner had shown him, cuddling him gently while murmuring sweet words, and a wonderful idea took shape in his mind.

It took a little to him to decide: with renewed energy he stood up, picked up his staff with a deft movement of the foot and jumped up to hover a few feet over the ground; lowering his eyes again he enjoyed the sight of that magnificent secret garden, not discard the idea to visit it again to make an unexpected surprise to his partner, then he flew toward the East, going away with a smile on his lips.

 

 

Here you can find a new fanart made by Syryus90!

  
[http://syryus90.deviantart.com/art/Pitch-and-Jack-and-Voluptas-perigee-eclips-428971671?q=gallery%3ASyryus90%2F15249725&qo=2](http://syryus90.deviantart.com/art/Pitch-and-Jack-and-Voluptas-perigee-eclips-428971671?q=gallery%3ASyryus90%2F15249725&qo=2)

 

New fanart by Fridarush!  
  
<http://fridarush.tumblr.com/post/94445739762/pitch-jack-and-voluptas-another-scene-from-the-ff>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be published on Wednesday ^^ the angst is coming...


	18. Chapter 18

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 18**

 

 

«Damn!» snapped Pitch, punching the window against which he was leaning and finally wakening up the child who he had sent a bad dream to.

As the terrified child ran to seek refuge in the room of his parents the Boogeyman recalled the Nightmare, letting him landing on his palm, then, in a fit of rage, he pulverized it, closing his fingers: he hated moments like this, in which he was so angry he couldn't even enjoy the fear of a spoiled child, who had been visited too few times by his creatures. Of course, the anger that burned in his chest was overwhelming and entirely justified: it was completely unacceptable that the Guardians were aware of his meetings with Jack, and that he knew this fact with weeks and weeks of delay. The Guardians had a frightening lead: they certainly hadn't sat twiddling their thumbs, but they had taken advantage to spy him, trying to memorize his habits, find his weak points and develop the best plan to eliminate him once and for all, and probably, they were just waiting for the most opportune moment to act. He had no idea how they would have attacked, but he couldn't rule out the possibility that they would have tried to use Jack against him: after all, why else would they have allowed him to meet him, even encouraging him? The Boogeyman was the enemy, the embodiment of evil: there was no reason to stay near to him except for making sure to hit him with more precision.

With a great effort of will he forced himself to breathe deeply, leaning against the glass with his back to stretch his muscles and closing his eyes to concentrate: the Guardians had resorted to cunning, but he still was the Lord of Nightmares. The weapon on which they relied was double-edged, because Frost was, yes, still naive enough to let them manipulate him, but, as soon as he would have fully understood their intentions, he would have react and defended him: he loved him with all himself and he would have never approved the use of violence on him, not even to correct his evil behaviour. Beyond that, the Guardians hadn't definitely considered the attachment he felt to the boy: Jack was his and his only, and Pitch would have given him up for no reason at all and he would have never allowed someone to hurt him. He perfectly remembered the pain which had gripped him on Christmas Eve, when he had feared he had killed him, and he was well determined not to repeat that experience ever again: to save his sweet, little snowflake he would have fought tooth and nail to his last breath, using all the ace in the hole he had; and, speaking of which, he had one that suited perfectly the situation.

With a wicked grin he opened his eyes, but, few yards far from himself, he found three small tooth fairies, chirping to each other while giving sidelong glances: why did they show such an interest in him? In the past he had casually met them several times during the night, but he had always seen them flying away from his shadow fast and without looking back: maybe had they been recruited to spy on him, too? Their eyes genuinely concerned seemed not to suggest that, but, probably, they were only dissimulating in order to mislead him: after all they were Toothiana's minions.

Annoyed he growled at them, quickly dispersing them, but, as soon as he turned, he found himself in front of Sandman, who, with his arms crossed, was staring at him with an expression of disapproval.

Puffing with exasperation the Boogeyman blurted out: «How is it possible that you Guardians are always in my way!?».

In that sentence the Bringer of Dreams shook and changed attitude, assuming a more reassuring one and shaping the sand into a big question mark on his head, but Pitch ignored him: the Guardians already knew too much about him, the last thing he needed was telling them that final details by himself.

He briskly walked away, passing beyond him not even considering him worthy of a glance; he had neither time nor will to argue with him, and it wasn't the right moment to attack him: he would have thought about him and his pathetic friends later.

With a soft gesture of his left arm he evoked Voluptas and he gracefully got into the saddle, then he urged him to gallop, heading without hesitation toward his lair with a satisfied grin on his lips.

 

 

After about ten minutes Pitch sighted a cave hidden by the bushes, one of the numerous secret accesses to his lair, so he spurred on Voluptas to leap in it; few seconds later he burst at full gallop into the central room and he immediately spotted the iron Globe which lit it.

"Not for long" he said to himself: he had only to wait a little, and finally he would have been able to turn it off, turning it into a uniform, beautiful black, which would have perfectly matched the atmosphere of the new empire he would have created.

He tried to stop the Nightmare and get off it, but it reared up and, bucking, he brought him away from the Globe, heading toward the hallways; with great effort the man tried to tame it, but, after some vain attempts, he was thrown to the ground.

With a growl the Boogeyman stood up and blurted out: «Voluptas!».

However, the Pureblood shot him a glance which was beyond caring for any retort: shaking his head it straightened his thick mane, then, with a bewitching look, it took one of the passages, luring him with a flickering motion of the neck.

The man was perplexed by that atypical behaviour: Voluptas was definitely more independent and enterprising than its mates, it didn't hesitate to take the initiative to fulfil its desires and, at times, it was also a rebel, as it had showed in that moment; substantially, the more time passed, the more Pitch had confirmation of what he had already noticed two months before: the Nightmare resembled Jack every inch.

Brushing off the dust from his robe he started to walk: he didn't want to give in, but the sensual attitude had intrigued him and he aimed to find out why. As soon as he got into the access he spotted the Pureblood at the end of the tunnel and he ran to join him, but it sped up: every time he turned the corner the man could only glimpse its long tail disappearing behind the stone walls, and the more he tried to reach it, the more he saw him running away from him; the chase lasted for about a minute, then the Boogeyman came to the end of the corridor and found, in front of himself, an incredible sight.

The room he had just entered into was the one where he used to lie down to rest, and in fact, in front of him, there was the stone bed; on the worn mattress there was Voluptas, crouched with a protective attitude, and, beside him, it laid Frost. He was completely naked, except for a thin strip of cloth that covered his groin, and he laid deeply asleep: his sweet face was resting on his left forearm and half-hidden by the right hand closed in a fist, his bony chest was slightly moving up and down, following the quiet rhythm of his breathing, and his tapered legs were bent, making him taking a half crouched position. That scene, masterfully framed by the evanescent figure of the Pureblood, was as tender as sensual: the expression of the boy, albeit serene, retained a hint of mischief, his hyaline skin exposed seemed to shiver under the man's avid gaze, as if it was asking to be caressed, and every line of his body seemed to guide him toward the lower abdomen, hidden by a piece of fabric so worn and frayed to seem placed there more to emphasize that to conceal.

Bewitched by the vision Pitch took a few steps forward and he barely noticed the Nightmare, which had dissolved in sinuous tentacles of sand: he let them disappear, whimsically twisting one last time around that thin body, and finally he stretched out a hand to touch him.

He almost didn't have time to touch with him that the boy opened his crystal clear eyes and whispered: «Do you like what you're seeing?».

Scared the Boogeyman jumped back and exclaimed: «Jack! What are you doing here... like this?».

«I wanted to make you a surprise and, as I see, you like it» said Jack with a wink.

The man froze: damn, he didn't need this, he didn't need this at all. He needed time and space to prepare himself, and it was neither appropriate nor safe, for the boy, to stay there with him; in addition, he was still upset because of the omission and he wasn't going to forgive him so easily. On the other hand it was not easy to resist the lure of that body, whose icy skin could warm up until it seared: he couldn't bear even the idea of seeing it without being able to touch it, especially when it was offered to him in that way, and Frost made his best to expose it as much as possible, sighing to make it shiver, turning the torso to show his chest and neck and opening a little his legs. Oh, what he wouldn't have given to be Jack's fingers, to caress those silky lips, slightly moistening themselves, languidly going along the jugular, stumbling in the collarbone and continuing along the sternum, reaching the navel and passing it to get lower and lower!

However, he could not, that was not the right time to let himself be distracted, so, with great effort, he stared at Jack's liquid irises and ordered: «Jack, get away immediately!».

«Not even in your wildest dreams» murmured the boy, continuing to slowly caress his abdomen.

Without even thinking Pitch stretched out his left hand towards him: he hadn't still thought clearly about what to do, if to take him away, chase him away or something else, he just knew that he awfully feared for his safety and that he would have not allowed him to stay. Frost, however, as it was in his stubborn nature, didn't let him take him: he quickly grabbed his wrist to block him, then he went up the arm, lightly touching it with his fingertips and calling his cold and sensual power.

The Boogeyman bit his lip in order not to let out even a breath, but he was forced to rest a knee on the mattress to support himself, and the boy, with a luring voice, whispered: «Come on, lay down next to me».

«Now I'll lay down and demonstrate you that this behaviour doesn't work with me! I'll wait until you'll admit the defeat and go away from here» snapped the man.

Unfortunately for him he had not fully realized the implications of his decision, but it was too late to retract, so he prepared himself. Feeling inexplicably flushed he let the robe dissolve and, remaining bare-chested, he laid down on the bed, immediately having his back on his partner; Jack, however, didn't give him a moment of peace and, tickling his back with his nails, he taunted him: «Everyone is able to resist in that position, you know, Pitch?».

«I was just more comfortable on the left side» sharply replied Pitch.

He slowly turned, so as to lay on his back, but he didn't dare to turn his head: he was starting to regret he had accepted the challenge, because it was showing itself far more difficult than he expected.

«All right, if you want to make me do it all alone...» provoked Jack, settling better.

The Boogeyman heard a rustling and some soft sighs, and it took little to him to understand that the boy had moved away the blanket and started to touch himself; albeit that was clear enough, however, he had the final confirmation by the rhythmic movement of his shoulder, which he saw from the corner of his eye, and by his moans more and more languid.

Sighing Frost stuttered: «Mh, Pitch, it's r-rude not looking if you, ah!, were asked to do so...».

«It wouldn't change anything anyway» replied the man with difficulty, gasping for the lack of oxygen.

In response, the boy, he joined him with a quick movement, pressing his erection on the Boogeyman's side and resting his leg on his cock that was just getting hard; at those gestures Pitch could not help but wince and, feeling him, the partner laughed and teased him: «Oh, it looks like you're not able to be so indifferent, Pitch!».

«These are silly speeches, I can't control my blood flow! Rather, notice that, except for this, I'm resting quietly» said the Boogeyman, trying to deny his own weakness at all costs.

«And how long do you think you'll be able to dissimulate?» plied the other.

«I'm not dissimulating, at this moment you do not exist for me, Jack Frost!» snapped the man as a last gallant defence.

He regretted it immediately: how could he have said such a cruel thing? He was angry, both for the omission and for the ease with which the partner was seducing him, but this didn't allow him to hurt him so brutally at all.

Worried he turned to apologize and comfort him, sure he had almost made him cry, but, when he saw him, he opened wide his eyes: not only Frost didn't seem sad, but a flicker of mischief animated his opacified irises, emphasized even more by the smile that soon lit up his flushed face.

Too surprised to react the Boogeyman let him lightly kiss him on the lips and then slip up to his ear, to whisper him: «You know, Pitch, you're making me a huge favour: if I do not exist I am allowed to do what I want».

As if to immediately take advantage of his new freedom Jack slowly rubbed his nose along his jugular, then he ran his tongue over the bite he had left less than a day before: Pitch immediately opened his mouth, inhaling deeply in the attempt to not let out a groan and closing his eyes, and he gladly accepted the fingers which were offered to him, sucking them with passion to avoid the risk of sighing.

After a while, however, he realized what he was doing and he bit them, to reject that umpteenth luring, but the boy didn't complain: with a chuckle he sat astride his stomach, then took the wet phalanges between his silky lips, staring at him with a look full of lust and miming gestures far more obscene. He licked thoroughly, making sure to offer him the best vision possible and follow the act with fluid and sinuous movements of the head, and, when he decided the fingers were wet enough, he slowly pulled them out, slightly biting them and sliding them along his own body, lower and lower. When he reached the end of the sternum he bowed, to capture a nipple with his teeth and tickle it with his tongue, and the Boogeyman shook with a sigh from the motionlessness in which he had fallen: without a murmur he let him marking his chest with hickeys and bites, clawing at the sheets and closing his eyes to hold back the shivers, but a high-pitched moan soon brought him back to reality.

When he opened his eyes he saw that the other had taken his arm behind his back and he couldn't hold back a deep sigh: he would have never thought that Frost could be so bold as to prepare himself by his own. No longer opposing his courting the man rubbed his open palms on his thighs, but he said nothing: he didn't want to surrender yet.

Continuing to moan the boy went, in a long, wet trail of kisses, up to his ear, then, with a hot voice, he whispered: «Mh, come on, perfect Pureblood, your colt wants to play: don't you want to gallop with it?».

Stubborn to the last, albeit gasping, Pitch turned his head to the left and said with difficulty: «Don't you think you're riding for a fall, Jack?».

In response, Jack grabbed his hair, pulling to force him to put his head back and whispering with a sensual but firm voice: «I believe that you're the only one who should _ride_ ».

It was a matter of a blink of an eye: a second before the Boogeyman was lying under the boy, suffering in silence his languid tortures and loosing more and more conviction in his stubborn resistance, and a second later the positions were completely reversed. The man hadn't even had the lucidity to realize that, with his abrupt gesture, he had actually admitted his defeat: the desire he felt towards Frost was too intense to be repressed and the attempt to stifle it had almost driven him mad. It was useless trying to resist him: he was there, few inches away from him, naked, aroused, so eager to shake every nerve ending even only with a little endearment, how could he ever have hold himself back? But, above all, why should he have had to? His little snowflake was his, he could court him whenever he wanted, denying him the pleasure or giving it to him to his liking, making him beg and then cry out while he satisfied him: there was no prohibition, except for not forcing him to do something he didn't want; considered, however, that the boy himself had been asking him with urgency to take him, there was no reason to leave him there, begging: grabbing him by the hips and quickly forcing him under himself had, basically, been a favour.

Reached the top position Pitch lifted a little his torso and enjoyed the beautiful sight of the lover: astonished by the sudden change, he had tried to support himself on the elbows to cushion the impact and, not managing to, he had temporarily turned his expression into a suffering one; that face, however, hadn't lasted long and was soon replaced by a much more quiet and delighted one.

Grinning the Boogeyman embittered his gaze and said: «I didn't give you the permission to stop».

He firmly grabbed his right wrist and brought it back between his legs, but Jack didn't need to be encouraged: without hesitation he obediently restarted his work from where he had stopped, closing his eyes and softly moaning.

«Mh, much better, Jack. You know that I am the one who dominates, and before you've been very naughty» whispered Pitch with a grin.

«Then maybe you should punish me» murmured the boy, stopping the bare minimum to talk and restarting soon after.

«You can bet on it» concluded the man.

He gently, but firmly, slipped the index and the middle finger right in his mouth; Frost let out a stifled moan, but he didn't complain, starting to suck with passion and making sure to expose as much as possible the chest and neck, and Pitch sighed in unison with him: seeing him like that, eagerly accepting those fingers deep down his throat, shivering without control, opening his thighs to ask for more, double penetrated, sent him into ecstasies. After few seconds he abruptly pulled the phalanges out of those silky lips, bringing them to the boy's entrance and violating it with his index, and he smiled hearing that little initial, frustrated moan turning into a satisfied cry. Without hesitation he grabbed his hand, in order to force it moving in sync with his own and to stimulate him better; in response the other arched his back to follow the chills and, panting uncontrollably, he clawed at the sheets, tearing those few frayed strips to shreds.

Jack didn't endure long: less than a minute later he took a deep breath and cried: «Nh, Pitch, I beg you!».

With a chuckle the Boogeyman continued his work and, looking at his worn out face, he whispered: «What do you beg me for?».

Hearing question the boy blushed even more, stopping to breathe, as if, in that way, he could mitigate the embarrassment or avoid to answer, but few seconds later he surrendered and begged him: «Please, make me yours! I want to, ah!, to feel you inside me, now...».

With a sudden movement, the man pulled his fingers out of him, and Frost gasped at the sudden feeling of emptiness, instinctively closing his legs as if to stop him. Pitch gave him a moment to recover, then he pierced him with his own magnetic irises, well aware of the power they had over the other, and ordered him: «Get up».

Trembling the boy obeyed, willingly accepting the forearm which was offered to him as support and hardly settling on his knees, then he stared at him with misty eyes, as if to ask what he wanted him to do.

Immediately the Boogeyman said: «Now lean against the wall».

At that mischievous request Jack smiled, but he didn't immediately comply: at first he came to him, then he gently placed his mouth on his, gently sticking out his tongue to lure him, and, at that gesture so sweet, the man couldn't deny him the first and last kiss of that embrace. Without wasting time he held him tightly in his arms and kissed him, showing all the passion and the eagerness he felt, to make him understand all the feelings he had knowing he was there: satisfaction, no doubt, but also infinite sweetness; and these were also the two gifts that he wanted to share with him.

Albeit reluctant to broke that tender hug Pitch bit his swollen lips and pulled him away, leaving him space to turn around and looking elsewhere so as not to spoil the show. When he heard no more rustling he turned and groaned with satisfaction: the boy was crouched, with his legs closed, at the foot of the wall, his forehead resting against it and his hands next to his face, as to protect himself, in an oxymoronic fusion of lust and shyness that literally sent him into ecstasies.

The Boogeyman enjoyed for few seconds the sight of those solid buttocks he adored so much and which, for the first time, he couldn't have touched during the intercourse, then he grabbed his right wrist and pulled him up, sensually whispering in his ear: «It's completely useless for you to try to act reservedly after the little show of while ago, you know, colt?».

Frost didn't opposed to the change of position, letting out a gasp as he stretched his back and opening up his thighs to get nearer to the wall, and he provoked him: «It's completely useless for you to deny that you love to see me act reservedly, you know, Pureblood?».

«Oh, Jack, do not waste your breath in this way» softly murmured the man; «Use that beautiful mouth for more appropriate purposes: scream for me».

Without giving him even a moment to breathe he let his pants dissolve and he penetrated him with a single, abrupt thrust.

Feeling him taking him without the slightest warning the boy arched violently, breaking into a satisfied cry, and, determined not to give him respite, Pitch immediately began to thrust, continuing to hold him by his right forearm and sliding the left to his groin. Sensing how much he was aroused he didn't touch him immediately: at first he caressed his abdomen, to quiet him a little; then he went to brush his thigh, down along the outside part and back along the inside one to better convey the chills to his groin; Finally, when he felt tears streaming from his crystal clear eyes, he decided to close his fingers on his erection.

Unable to hold himself Jack sighed heavily and he clung at the back of his head to spur him, but there was no need to do that: panting the Boogeyman bit his jugular, groping for it behind the hazy veil that covered everything on which he rested his eyes, and he passed his right arm around his chest, in order to support him more easily.

However, it didn't took long to him to fall into temptation: that neck so thin as to seem almost feminine, which had been offered so many times to him, was irresistible, and, almost without realizing it, he began to stroke it with his fingertips, being careful not to press on it in any way.

After few seconds the boy cried out his name and the man smiled, thinking it was just an incoherent invocation, but soon he realized that the other wanted to speak, so he slowed the pace enough to let him.

«Ah, Pitch, you can, nh!, tighten if you want to, yes...» he stammered with difficulty.

At that statement Pitch froze, opening wide his eyes: what had just said Frost?

«Jack, I... it's dangerous, I could hurt you...» he explained with a trembling voice.

In response the boy, who had let out a frustrated moan because of the interruption, pulled himself together and, resting his right hand on his as if to encourage him, he whispered: «No, I trust you: I know that you would never hurt me».

Two twin tears slipped out from the Boogeyman's irises: he felt confused, and overwhelmed by guilt thinking about that night of two months ago, which he would have never forgotten in his life. The statement and the spontaneity with which it had been told to him had moved him, but, at the same time, he felt sad, because he believed he didn't deserve all that trust after that huge failure. The boy, however, had spoken with heart in his hand, trying, as always, to support and encourage him, so it was time to stop thinking: he had to postpone all the concerns and stay focused.

He started to strongly thrust again, moving the right just under his jaw, in order to feel the crazy throbs of the carotid, but leaving him the space to breath and loudly moan; without being distracted he followed them, counting them one after the other, and, when he felt his heart missing a pulse, he grabbed his throat in an iron grip.

As he expected Jack tried to get free with a shrug, but he knew that the reaction was due to the instinct, and not by fear, so he ignored his protests and held him firmly: unlike the last time he continued to stimulate him, penetrating and caressing his hard cock, and, as soon as he felt him tensing the muscles and coming with a muffled cry, he freed him. The orgasm that resulted was so intense to be overwhelming: the boy arched, throwing his head back so quickly that the spine cracked, he let out a high-pitched and particularly satisfied as he spread his legs to better follow the violent chills, then he collapsed on him.

The man thoughtfully supported him, holding his head as he coughed a little, and then wrapping him in a tender hug; personally he was still terribly aroused, so close to the limit as to feel almost on fire, but the scene he had just seen had given him such a satisfaction that he preferred not to force the other, waiting quietly inside him that pants and tremors subsided.

After a minute of gentle cuddles Frost awoke and, pressing his cheek against Pitch's jugular, he whispered: «Thank you».

«The punishment is not over yet, Jack» replied the Boogeyman with a hard and sensual voice.

Without wasting time he brought his own left hand to his mouth, thoroughly licking the semen which wetted it and moving away a little from the boy, in order to make him see how much he was tasting it. Satisfied by the sighs his partner let out at that sight, he completed his work quietly, then he slid his hand, now clean, on his chest, as if to reassure him, but, as soon as he saw him relaxing, he acted: with a flash he bit his lip, forcing him to open them and violating them to force him to taste his own flavour, and, simultaneously, he started to thrust.

Initially Jack let out a muffled cry, taken by surprise by those two movements so sudden, but he quickly surrendered: he actively participated in the kiss, although he let him lead, he rubbed the tongue on his palate several times, as if the little taste which he had received had been too little to him, and he opened his thighs more, to ease the embrace, clinging with his left hand at an iron ring which hanged from the wall and squeezing Pitch's buttock with his right hand to spur him.

However the didn't need any encouragement at all: he was already in ecstasy. Since he had satisfied the boy he no longer had to care to stimulate him, and had therefore been able to grab him by the hips to take him better: now he could finally let himself go and vent his repressed instincts.

Feeling short of breath he pulled him away and pushed on his head, making him adhering to the stone with his cheek and collarbones and waiting until he rested his forearms against the wall to support himself, then, with a snarl, he started to thrust: oh, it was sublime, to say the least, the way in which Frost offered himself, giving himself whole hog but still maintaining spirit of initiative, screaming his name to let him know what he wanted, never satisfied with what he received! But soon, for Pitch, everything were overshadowed: his vision became misty and his mind got clouded, and, since that time, for him there existed only the boy's acute moans which filled the air and his hot flesh in which he rhythmically sank.

After few seconds he felt himself close to come and, in the attempt to resist a little longer, he grabbed Jack by the hair and pulled him up to bite his jugular, but the gesture had the opposite effect: the taste of his silky skin, mixed to the one of the blood which oozed from the bruise, and his intoxicating scent finally bring him to the limit. With a liberating sigh he came, not caring the least to moderate the tone and barely hearing the moan which the boy let out, frantically tightening the hug and giving few more deep thrust after he reached the orgasm.

Exhausted he slid out of him and sat down, his tights open, but, seeing the other slipping against the stone, he quickly grabbed and hugged him, bringing him on his lap and holding his head to help him breathe. He waited until the tremors of both of them faded away, then he made him lie on a side and, looking at him, he couldn't help but smile: he was completely worn out, to the point that he had already fallen asleep. He loved the way in which Frost could switch from lust in its purest form to infinite and moving sweetness, and without any fear he started to cuddle him, shivering from time to time because of the residual chills the orgasm had caused.

Now free to express himself the Boogeyman began to stroke his feet, surprised by the fact he hadn't ever given them attention before: they were very thin and bony, of an unusual shape, but he found them beautiful and suitable for his playful personality. He caressed them still a bit, then he left that skin hardened by time and weather to go to the leg's perfectly smooth one: he moved slowly, occasionally retracing his steps to draw again the spots he couldn't already trace by memory, finally reaching the side. He couldn't resist and, with a sigh, he bent to kiss him: his skin was so silky, so soft, so incredibly scented that he would have spent hours enjoying it and devouring it with kisses, light bites and hickeys, not forgetting to taste any spot from the big ears to his toes. That would have certainly been a pleased occupation, but he did not want to wake him up, so he just followed his spine from the coccyx to the neck with his lips, shivering with him.

When he reached his face he lightly touched it with his fingertips and smiled: he felt so happy! Jack had shown a boundless trust in him, and he had been able not to betray it: he had treated the partner with respect and, even if he had been a little violent, he had not injured him; he had donated him all the pleasure he could offer, and the boy had thanked him, both with words and gestures, awarding him with a sincere smile and giving himself to the hilt.

Now they were in complete harmony: he should no longer have been afraid to do something wrong, he could enjoy his love without fear. Love... what Frost felt towards him was touching, and perhaps the time had come, for the man, to start thinking seriously about what he felt towards him.

There was only one last detail which had to be fixed, in addition to the one concerning the feelings: one last age-old question which he would have provided for soon, giving the boy a wonderful gift, which he would have been able to enjoy for the rest of his immortal existence with him. Because there was no doubt, Pitch would have never left him: he cared too much about his snowflake to be able even only to think of living his life without the sweet company of his laughter, his hugs, his comprehensive behaviour, his soul and his body in general. Jack was his, and he would have never let anyone take him away.

Reluctantly the man gave him a kiss on his temple and he moved away from him: he was sorry to leave, but he wanted to check something before sleeping at his side, a very important detail for the gift he intended to give him. Determined to be as fast as possible he quickly stood up, creating his own clothes while he was already walking to the hallway, but after two steps he awkwardly slipped down.

Confused by what had happened he had just the mental alertness not to unbalance himself, managing to fall on his knees and letting out a little lament for the impact; still dumbfounded he looked at himself: his robe hadn't be formed at all and his trousers had been woven only in tattered strips, creating a more compact band around the groin and buttocks and reducing itself to thin ribbons on his opened thighs open, along which minutes streams of magic sand continued to silently flow. A scary outfit, no doubt, but not in the sense he had intended to get.

Starting to have a sweet suspicion he swept with a slap the black sand that covered the floor at his feet and he found it cold and more polished than usual, and, finally, a chuckle behind him made him turn around.

Jack was wide awake and, silently, he had turned, crouching on the mattress and setting the ice trap for him: at that moment, clearly satisfied with his work, he was enjoying the sight of his mocked, intensely staring at him intently with a winsome smile.

With difficulty Pitch stood up, returning the look, and he couldn't hold back a grin when he saw the partner imitating a cat, moving his right hand as if to scratch him: he could have never lured him in a more clearly and provocative way.

Piercing him with a possessive gaze he reached him, then, with a harsh but sensual tone, he said: «It seems that someone, here, hadn't had enough: it's clear that I must punish you again».

 

 

Since he had got on the bed Pitch had subjected Jack to any sweet torture he had managed to contrive: he had provoked him with his hands, lips, teeth, tongue, exploring every area of his body and leaving him any kind of mark. He had brought him to the limit over and over again, enjoying the moans and groans Frost let out when he felt depart him moving away before he could come, but he didn't let him convince him: he denied him the pleasure for long, ignoring the pleas and the tears, and only when he saw him almost fainting he decided to satisfy him, deftly using his mouth to prolong the orgasm as much as he could.

Finally satisfied the boy collapsed on the mattress, lying down on his side to breath better and relax, but the Boogeyman gave him no respite: grabbing him by the hair he forced him on all fours and, unceremoniously, he penetrated him a second time.

They had never done it that way, because the man had always preferred to be able to look at his worn out face, but the position had its pleasant advantages: in fact, it was not only comfortable for both of them, but it also gave the Boogeyman full access to Frost's body, from the thin neck to his outstretched arms, from the panting to the abdomen rhythmically contracted, from the trembling, opened thighs to his cock harder and harder. Pitch didn't forget any of these spots, stroking them with the open palm both to intensify the shivers and to calm him, and the boy replied, moaning loudly, following the thrusts and clawing at the sheet so as not to fall. Soon, however, he surrendered and slid down to rest his cheek and collarbones on the mattress, his left arm outstretched and the right one bent while he let the partner take him without resisting him.

The Boogeyman grabbed him by the hips, keeping his pelvis lifted in order to ease the penetration and starting to feel worn out, but, as soon as he felt Jack shivering for his third orgasm, he recovered and, with a snarl, he went on. Slowly he moved his hand to touch his cock, in order to make him understand that he wasn't pursuing only his own, personal pleasure, and yet he felt it hard, but perfectly dry: the boy had no semen left.

Entranced by the awareness he had satisfied him at this point he felt an intense shiver going from the base of the neck and conveying in the groin and, with an acute cry, he came, marking him intimately and giving one last thrust.

He gently slid out of him, then he moved away and collapsed beside him, deeply panting and closing his opacified eyes for a moment; concerned about the other he opened them to check him, and, seeing him haphazardly sprawled, he pushed him with great effort, until he made him laying almost supine.

Exhausted by that small gesture the man rested and enjoyed the sight of the worn out lover: his blind eyes, his flushed cheeks, his limbs completely relaxed, his weak breathing, everything showed the passion with which he had participated in the embrace, and how much he had been pleased by the prolonged union.

Pitch patiently waited for him to awaken and, when he saw his irises turning clear again, he moved next to him and he provoked him: «So, colt, have you had enough now?».

Frost coughed, then he looked condescendingly at him and answered: «Well, I'm not sure: I have a feeling that I will still be able to walk when it's time to get up, so I guess you could have done better».

They laughed in unison and, when the laughter subsided, the Boogeyman warned him: «Do not play with fire, Jack, or you will melt down».

«More than now? Then it would be really better, for me, to keep my mouth shut!» exclaimed the boy.

Softly chuckling the man stroked his left cheek with the back of his fingers, lost in the sapphire blue of his eyes, and he heard him asking: «Can you hold me?».

Without hesitation he pulled him close, holding him tightly while he rested his forehead on his chest and whispering: «Sure, sweetie».

They stayed in that position for about a minute, Pitch cuddling the partner and Jack listening at his heart's throbs, then the latter stirred a little and murmured: «Pitch, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you about the other Guardians. I wanted to talk to you that night when you found me sleeping here, do you remember? It was about a week after New Year's Eve. Unfortunately at that time I forgot that and, when it came again to mind, I had already gone away. Stupidly I decided not to talk to you, to see if you have guessed it on your own. I was an idiot, I know, both making fun of you and, few weeks later, when I realized you'd never understand it without help, deciding to tell you the news only when Bunnymund knew that, too: I justified himself saying that would have been more practical, but, actually, it was just a lazy gesture, because I did not know how to introduce you the question».

«Shhh, it doesn't matter, sweetie, it's all water under the bridge» interrupted him the Boogeyman.

«Do you really forgive me? Are you no longer angry with me?» asked the boy, incredulous.

«No, no more» reassured him the man.

«Oh, Pitch, thank you! I knew you'd have understood, thank you!» exclaimed Frost.

He immediately hugged him tightly and buried his face in his chest; Pitch rejoiced at that demonstration of affection and hugged him in turn: the boy should not worry, the fault had never been really his and, in any case, the question of the Guardians was now solved.

Now serene he rubbed his nose against his one and said: «Do not worry, Jack. I'm here with you and I'll be there forever, a silly argument will never make me run away: if there's a problem it must be faced and overcome, and that's what I will do. Now, however, you're exhausted: close your eyes and go to sleep with me».

As he had expected Jack was already so tired he could hardly keep his eyes opened: he knew him well, in the next five minutes of an embrace, except for the initial collapsing, he could resist with no problem and even be energetic, but, after time, he always fell asleep. Pitch tenderly watched him rubbing his cheek against the mattress, as to shake himself, moan a little to protest and then surrendering: he had no chance to stay awake.

In a voice already furred with sleep the boy whispered: «I love you».

Then he finally dozed off. The Boogeyman smiled at the sweetness and sincerity of that statement, and he was a little sad seeing Frost sleeping already deeply: he would have wanted to talk to him more in a moment like that. However, it wasn't necessary to be sad: an entire, eternal lifetime with him was coming, and he would have found countless other appropriate times to talk to him, especially after the wonderful gift he was going to prepare him.

Encouraged by this thought he moved his legs next to him and he wrapped his ones in a gentle intertwining, combining the useful with the pleasurable: that tender gesture, in fact, would have not only flattered Jack, but also not allowed him to move during the sleep.

Pitch tried then to lie down, but no position seemed comfortable: he stirred for a moment, then he realized the problem, and he understood that he couldn't procrastinate it any more. Standing on his elbow he left soft and light kisses on his little snowflake's cheek, going up slowly, as if to gather the courage at every timid step; once he reached his ear he bent down and whispered, almost inaudibly: «Me too».

Then he laid down and he immediately slid into the land of dreams.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what will happen in the next chapter? I'll publish it on Saturday ^^ see you soon!


	19. Chapter 19

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 19**

 

 

Pitch kept his ears open few more seconds, but no sound reached him: Jack had already left his lair. The man let out a sigh of relief: after their awakening he had, as usual, cuddled his partner, until Frost had told him he wanted to visit Toothiana's Palace, which, by then, must have been finished; the boy had tried to invite him, but the Boogeyman had politely declined the offer and he had accompanied him out into the hallway, giving him one last, farewell kiss and promising he would have come to him soon. He had been touched seeing Frost's beaming smile: even a small thing, like a sweet thought, a caress or a date, was enough to make him happy. The man, however, at that time, was going to give him a present far more magnificent: a gift which would have left him literally speechless, an honour incomparable to any other, a promise which would have last for a whole eternity. Maybe, at first, it would have been too much for the boy and he would have felt lost and confused, but it wouldn't matter: Pitch would have educated and guided him, treating him with care and patience until he he would have see the joy animating his crystal clear eyes again.

Satisfied with the idea he had had, he strode back in the central room of his lair and, recalling dark tentacles from his own shadow, he moved, not without difficulty, the luminous Globe, revealing a hidden trapdoor. Curious and a bit in awe he examined it: centuries-old dust covered it, softening its outlines and decorations, but the memories, combined with what he was watching, enabled him to intuit its shape. Inhaling deeply he moved his right arm in an arc, and so he evoked a wave of black sand, which perfectly swept the ground revealing the secret door. Made of basal, circular, it was adorned with serpentine motifs which were intertwined one into another, forming infernal creatures with grotesque features; some of them were faceless, others disarticulated, others misshapen, others only half- formed, but they all had one thing in common: they aroused anxiety just with their look.

It was not really their horrible appearance to frighten, nor the fact that they were surrounded by shadows, or the one that they had been carved in such a realistic way that they almost seemed alive and in motion: it was all the ensemble, which evoked an atavistic fear much deeper than the simple disgust caused by the simple sight of the bas relief.

Unconsciously he stumbled and he had to withdraw, in order to support himself grabbing a chain hanging from the ceiling: those monsters had brought back to his mind confused memories he didn't know he had, remote wars and forgotten deaths which had overwhelmed him with their own power, upsetting him. Where did they come from? He was sure he had never fought battles so ferocious, so why had his mind offered him these visions?

Releasing the support Pitch opened his eyes and tried to calm down: these were not memories, but nightmares emanating from the well. He knew well what lurked in it: the fear in its purest form, a distillation of irrational terror much more ancient than him. He had never been able to explain why he was aware of those informations: when he was born he was alone and no one had ever said him anything, yet he had instinctively acted without hesitation. He had been able to easily create Nightmares and guide them right to the children, he had soon found his lair, already perfectly formed, and, inside there, that portal, and he had immediately understood he should have never opened it, except in case of extreme emergency: he hadn't enough strength or will to dominate the evil it contained.

However, he couldn't procrastinate any more: the current situation was dire, the Guardians could attack him at any moment and there was the serious risk they would have taken Jack away, and that shouldn't happen. He would have overturned the whole world just to find him, obviously, but what if he hadn't been successful? And what if, in the meantime, the boy had been injured or something worse would have happened? No, no, he couldn't even bear the thought! Prevention was better than a cure, and that was the reason why he was there, ready to unleash unnamed beast against the Guardians: he would have crushed them before they realized the threat.

The Boogeyman had no doubt that he would have been able to control that immense power: now he had centuries' experience, during which he had deepened his knowledge and hardened his spirit, and above all the desire to protect his sweet snowflake supported him. No, he would have not failed this time, and, like him, those infernal creatures would have not failed to destroy the Guardians.

Recovering from the initial weakness the man evoked Voluptas, got into its saddle and led it to the edge of the hatch: using the same tentacles he had called before he lifted the heavy stone, making it slid away to open up almost completely the well, then he took a deep breath and, spurring the Pureblood, he dove in it.

In the first few seconds it seemed to him that he really had plunged into water: there the darkness was so black and thick that he felt it pressing on the skin and creeping under the clothes, and the damp cold that emanated from the rock did nothing but amplify that sensation. Shuddering he continued to fall, ignoring the increasingly chill that froze his limbs, and soon the temperature diverted: from rigid it grew gradually, slowly becoming more and more hot and muggy, leaving him with a layer of sticky sweat that the whirlwinds of hot air did nothing but thicken.

When that viscose moisture began to take the blood's compactness and warmth Voluptas sharply slowed down, bursting at full gallop in a huge cave and landing gracefully. Pitch quickly dismounted and looked around: the room was dark, but this was not an obstacle for him, of course. The cave was, probably, very ancient: on the right there was a concretion of stalactites and stalagmites, grown in the centuries thanks to the water of a reservoir now completely dry; few meters away there emerged boulders of a thousand bright colours and coarse-grained, formed from magma that should have needed decades to cool completely, and immediately next to them, the rock broke, revealing thousands and thousands of splendid precious stones as big as fists, generously embedded therein by the nature such as flowers in a meadow.

What took the Boogeyman's attention, however, was not any of those marvels, but a black and perfectly smooth wall: at first glance it seemed made of basalt, but soon he realized that was not possible at that depth, so he moved to check.

Walking cautiously on the rough ground he went closer, almost touching it, and he spotted a series of decorations engraved onto it: curious he followed them with his fingers, retracing the swirls and stumbling in the sharp lines, until he reached a small, oval bas relief. Looking around he noticed that all the decorations converged at that sort of cameo and, regardless of the unknown words that adorned it, he touched it.

A sudden vision blinded him, a ferocious and confused jumble of images: darkness that descended on the light, striving claws, bared fangs, and blood, so, so much blood. Shocked he stepped back, falling and crawling few feet away: he still heard a cacophony of screams and growls deafening him, and unnamed creatures climbing on his garments, and that sensations stubbornly lasted.

Inhaling deeply he slowly calmed down and he turned his expression into a wicked grin. "Perfect", he thought. If he, the Lord of Nightmares, had been frightened by that monsters, the Guardians would have been completely terrified.

Satisfied and determined not to be distracted further the man stood up and stepped forward: now he knew what to do. He lowered his eyes and pressed again his palm on the bas relief; employing a strong self-control he dismissed the annoying visions from his mind and, when he felt no longer threatened, he opened his eyes and whispered: «Behemuth».

The wall immediately dissolved into dust, which, instead of sliding to the ground, was sucked into the hidden cavity, so dark that even Pitch couldn't see anything in it. Curious and wary kept his ears open, hoping to find something: at first he heard a low but hissing sound, which he identified as a breath, then a more scratchy and grave one, like a heavy object in motion, and finally he understood. His sight had not failed: the gloomy creature he had just freed was so large it completely filled the cavern.

Intimidated he stepped back, but he regretted it immediately: the beast, which had not revealed itself yet, stopped, suddenly aware of his presence, and the Boogeyman perceive over himself all the weight of its attention; it was difficult to understand how it felt: it seemed to him that, at the same time, he was scrutinized by a thousand evil irises and a single one which was the merger of all, and yet no pupil was staring at him.

Bewildered he hesitated too long and the monster acted: with a click it stretched out a skeletal hand towards Voluptas and it grabbed it, dragging it in the hidden cave and quickly tearing it apart with sharp jaws until it destroyed it.

Hearing the horse's desperate neigh Pitch, who had been motionless, as under a spell, shook himself: no, no, not it, not Jack's Pureblood! He was the flagship of his army, his most beautiful Nightmare, why had Behemuth brutally destroyed it?

Rubbing a hand on his forehead to calm himself he easily answered his own question: Voluptas was born to lure and, for the beast he had just released, a task so subtle was not understandable at all. It was the fear in its purest form, the incarnated irrationality which inspired fear even just with the sound of his own breath, why should it care to deceive its victims. According to his conception, there were only two categories of living being: itself and the humans it was going to scare. Everything that was outside of this classification was unnecessary and, so, had to be eliminated.

Albeit upset by the ferocious attack the Boogeyman tried to reassure himself: that Pureblood was magnificent and special, but not comparable to his little snowflake. He had to care only about him and his safety, everything else was an accessory and, therefore, expendable; if Jack, once rescued by the Guardians, had shown himself sorry for his pet's death, the man would have soon consoled creating him a new special one: he would have shaped it according to his wishes, inspired by his innocent beauty, and, after that, he would have given him many others, slowly building a cohort worthy of the prince that the boy would have become.

Now more calm Pitch straightened his back and, in a commanding voice, he ordered: «Follow me, Behemuth: there are enemies outside the lair».

The shapeless shadow shuddered at those words, swelling and beginning to hiss, and the Boogeyman took it as an assent; turning he walked up to the entrance of the cave, then he dissolved, starting to climb the shaft. He proceeded with difficulty into the narrow tunnel, fighting against gravity and the sweltering heat, but soon he had a motion of insane joy to encourage him: behind him he had heard the sound of footsteps following him.

 

 

About ten minutes after Pitch was hovering in the night sky above his lair, waiting impatiently for the beast to follow him. Well aware of its huge shape he wasn't surprised by the delay: he had heard it panting heavily while trying to keep up with him in the well, and he had no doubt that it had made a beak in the main hall to recover.

For few seconds the Boogeyman regretted having left it behind: what would he have done if the creature had made a complete mess of the cave and the cages in it while it stretched after a long sleep? However, it was better that way: Behemuth was aggressive and slow in understanding orders, and Pitch couldn't risk his life just to save some piece of furniture. He must not forget that all things were expendable in the way to that victory, even his own home: if, returning from the battle, he had really found it devastated, he would have taken the opportunity to settle it together with his sweet snowflake, so that it would have reflected the spirit of both of them and become a splendid palace in which they could have felt comfortable.

Satisfied with that idea he looked down and saw that, finally, the monster was reaching him: stretching out several skeletal hands it was trying to pull himself out, throwing large clods aside to make space for the immense body and deforming it in order to pass, and with one final thrust he succeeded, raising a fountain of topsoil.

The beast lunged into the night sky, as if it had longed for the fresh air so long that it wanted to grasp it all at once; it swelled to excess, making a sound like a deep breath and remain suspended for a moment, then it fell back, expanding like a mushrooms cup and starting to settle down. In a short time that shivering surface was split into hundreds of trembling portions, which took the form of the subjects of the well's bas relief: infernal creatures, bristle with teeth, claws, shaggy hairs and sharp bones and surrounded by sinuous shadows that linked each being to the others.

With a satisfied grin Pitch stared at his new army: Behemuth had obeyed his silent order, becoming a dark rank which would have been able to engage all the Guardians, separating and crushing them like insignificant flies, as they were.

He almost didn't have time to finish the thought that, with a sharp bang, a magical portal opened on his right and, out of it, Bunnymund, Sandman and North appeared on the sleigh of the latter.

The Pooka immediately leaped on him and yelled: «I knew you were not changed! Did you hope that this gathering wouldn't have been noticed?».

With a quick move the Boogeyman grabbed him by the leather strip he wore and replied: «Not at all: you are the guests of honour, I was just about to send you the invitations».

Caught by surprise and at a disadvantage the Easter Bunny stammered: «But what... what are you going to do this time!?».

Grinning the man got closer to his muzzle and, with a soothing tone, he whispered: «You aren't changed at all, too: so close, so ready to fight me, and so foolish. It 'obvious that you've allowed Jack to meet me just to get close to me without being noticed, and that you've been spying on me for weeks just to find out my weaknesses, but you have failed: my only weakness is Jack, but he is also my biggest strength. You will never be able to use him against me, and I will never allow you to take him away! You chose the wrong enemy: I destroy any obstacle I find on my way, and, at this moment, you are just a pathetic, tiny obstacle between me and what I want».

He fully enjoyed his puzzled expression, his eyes opened wide in sheer terror, then he released him, watching him falling and omitting additional explanations in order not to ruin the beautiful and terrible surprise he had prepared.

While Bunnymund was recovered by Santa Claus, from the west Toothiana and Jack arrived and the fairy exclaimed: «For all the teeth, Pitch, what are you doing!? You have no idea how dangerous Behemuth can be, recall it now, when there is still time, or it will destroy the whole Earth!».

«Oh, do not be silly, little fairy: it will destroy only what I will order it to attack. Do not think even for a moment that I don't have full control over him: it's under my command, now, and it will wipe you out, from first to last. You made a big mistake, yesterday, when you approached me: I'm not a fool, I know what you aim at» said Pitch, proudly sure of himself.

«Pitch, do not do anything crazy!» warned him the fairy, worried.

«Shut up! I know that you've been aware of my encounters with Jack for weeks, I know that you have questioned him, I know that you've been spying on him, your attempt to deny it is useless! But do not believe you can win: he is mine and mine only, and will not let you take him away!» shouted the Boogeyman.

Jack, who, until that moment, had stood motionless, surprised and confused, quickly flew to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and asking him, aghast: «Pitch, what are you doing!?».

Touched the man smiled at him and, caressing his cheek, he murmured: «Sweetie, do not worry: I myself will take care of everything. The Guardians deceived you: they fight against me since they were born and the aren't changed, when they saw that you frequently met me they only took the opportunity to study me better and they ignored your wishes. Do you remember the first time Bunnymund saw us together? He was upset, almost disgusted, and yet, less than two hours later, he came to us without attacking me: how could he have changed his mind so quickly? The truth is that he didn't accept anything except for that hateful opportunity, and the others did the same! They will try to use you against me, Jack, and then to separate us, but I will not allow them: I evoked this army only for you. Watch it destroys all our enemies, and do not worry: it will leave us a world cleansed of sly lies».

«Pitch, no! The Guardians don't hate you and they don't want to separate us! We were waiting for you: when I visited them I told them that you'd show up soon, and we were all waiting for you!» cried the boy, shocked.

«Lies, all hateful lies! Do not believe them any more, do not even listen to them! They will never deceive you any more, sweetie, soon I'll give you a world in which we could reign together» reassured him Pitch.

«No, no, I don't want to reign with you, I just want to live with you forever and in peace with the rest of the world!» shouted Frost with despair.

«Cut out these tantrums, Jack! Peace is built with war. I understand your disbelief: I expected it. Sooner or later, though, you will realize I'm right, and you'll thank me for this gift: I will guide you step by step, do not fear. Now care to stay away from Behemuth: it's too dangerous, and I don't want you to get hurt» murmured the Boogeyman.

Ignoring his anguished screams he summoned a group of Innexiae and ordered them to drag him to the ground, away from the battle and danger, and to keep him busy in order not to let him escape: he wasn't sure he would have been able to curb Behemuth, making him not hit back at an offensive, so it was much more prudent moving away the boy.

Settled every concern aside the man was finally able to turn to the four Guardians, now gathered on the sleigh: he looked at them one by one, already dreaming about the wounds he have inflicted on them, and then, with a sensual voice, he whispered: «Well: let's start».

Frowning to focus better he evoked his sharp scythe and, at light speed, he flung himself towards them, aiming at the sleigh and destroying it with few effective blows. The reindeer, terrified, haphazardly fled away, soon disappearing on the horizon, while the Guardians did exactly what he expected: they leaped away, surprised, each of them to a different direction and not even realizing the grave mistake.

Pitch didn't need to utter any peremptory order aloud: it was enough thinking about the monster to make it move. With a deep roar growl it rose from the ground where it had been resting, moving its army in a united and crawling frontline and gradually increasing its speed until it separated itself into four groups, which leaped, with deadly accuracy, each one on its prey.

The first to be attacked was North: still confused and trying in vain to calm and hold back his animals, he didn't even have the time to defend himself and was, therefore, grabbed by the ankle and brutally thrown on the ground. Burdened by his body and his bulky garments Santa Claus fell head over heels, tearing down several trees in the forest below and stopping almost miraculously just before a precipice; however, he was a rough sort, so he stood up without any difficulty, shaking his head a little to recover and preparing himself to the fight.

Bunnymund was approached in the same way, but, taking advantage of the agility which characterized him, he landed with admirable elegance on a flat boulder, throwing a couple of eggs that burst into colourful clouds and pulling out his deadly boomerangs.

Sandman, instead, who, from the beginning, had evoked a magical cloud of sand to support himself, lifted a bit to gain an advantageous position and immediately prepared himself to the counter attack, twirling two golden whips above his head and cracking them on the tentacles already stretched toward him.

Toothiana, finally, was the most cunning among them all: fleeing like a hummingbird he rapidly flew from one creature to another, dodging most of them and knocking down those who stood in front of her with strong punches and nudges, literally driving Behemuth mad in her continuous hit and run; she deftly avoided it for a long time, even making it tangle itself in the attempt to catch her, but after few minutes she had to surrender and stop, starting a more serious fight.

Meticulous as always the Boogeyman checked that Jack had been dragged to a safe distance and he sent new Innexiae to block him better and replace the ones destroyed by him, then he turned, to enjoy the battle and the incomparable show of the Guardians in slow surrender.

Intrigued he carefully vet the beast: it was completely different than what he expected; he had foolishly assumed that it was composed by the same black sand with which he created the Nightmares, perhaps more durable, but still inconsistent and easy to dissolve and transform, but what he saw left him completely speechless. The monsters seems to have a sandy and rough texture, but their bodies reacted as if they were made of flesh: if they were hit they didn't dissolve into dust, but they were thrown away, when they managed to stroke a victim their arms gave out a dull sound and were soon ready for a new blow, but, more importantly, when they were injured they bleed.

Blood... there was so much blood now, thick, sticky, so brightly red in that dark chaos: it trickled from the beast's multiple orbits, from the countless, twisted limbs, from the endless deformed chests, it dribbled from the cuts and into the mouths bristling with fangs, it dripped along the undefined features and from there to the ground, it was everywhere, macabre and absurdly abundant. Although he was used to bloody scenes, thanks to his Nightmares, the man couldn't help but being a little horrified, unable to explain how it was possible that Behemuth had already lost so much of it and wondering if the blood had faded away once he would have won, or if it had remain to drench everything for years to come; however, the fear lasted only few seconds, after which Pitch began to appreciate the other side of the coin of that strange phenomenon.

Toothiana and Bunnymund, in fact, although they were strong, weren't even able to scratch those beings: hitting them with punches and nudges they managed to threw them away, but the creatures quickly stood up and returned to the fray, chasing them more and more. In a short time the fairy suffered a slight damage to the right wing, which, combined with all the blood which soaked her feathers, forced her to glide, and wisely she landed next to the Pooka, giving him her back to protect and be protected at the same time. This expedient, however, in the long run would have no longer worked: they were both exhausted, their counterattacks were more and more slow and inaccurate and they had risked many times to fall in the jaws of the creatures; the fact most serious for them and more pleasant for Pitch, however, was that they hadn't noticed the thin shadows which, stretching out from the army, were slowly crawling towards and over them, tying them into a deadly trap from which they would have never been able to break free.

Few dozen meters away North was still fighting valiantly, dealing blows left, right and centre and mutilating the monsters, but, unfortunately for him, the beasts, albeit groaning and torn apart, didn't yield, quickly healing the cuts and regaining their strength, beginning to press him on every side to block him and snap at his throat.

The only one who seemed to resist better than the others was Sandman: still fiercely stable on his cloud of magical sand, he was the only bright spot in the midst of that dark chaos, and he didn't seem to have lost conviction in his offensive at all. With his brow furrowed in concentration he swirled both the whips, generously dealing lashes which burnt Behemuth; this, in return, howled with pain and stepped back a little, unable to regenerate itself because of the heat; the army, however, was so thick that there were always new appendages ready to sacrifice themselves to destroy the Bringer of Dreams, and there was no doubt that, soon, they would have managed to.

Every small detail of that scene was perfect: the looming Nightmares, the Guardians on the wane, everything was exactly congruent with the plans Pitch had developed; soon those pathetic characters, who tried so much to show off to the children, but who hid, inside themselves, a heart black with hatred, would have been defeated, while he would have won. Too impatient to wait he already thought about the future: first of all he would have locked up again the beast in the hidden cave under his lair, since he would have not needed it any more and he didn't want to continuously have to check it and prevent it from attacking everyone; then he would have certainly returned to pick up Jack, freeing him from the Innexiae and announcing him the good news: the victory would have been their and a new empire, in which they'd have fulfilled the role of King and Prince, would have been born. Unfortunately it was probable that the boy would have shown himself neither happy nor satisfied with this news: he would have mourned his friend's death, he would have been angry with him, accusing him to be too cruel, perhaps, at first, he would have even run away in horror, but the Boogeyman had no doubt he would have returned. Frost loved him, he could not stay far from him for long, so there was no reason to fear: little by little he would have gradually approached him, at first hesitant and wary, then more and more comfortable and confident; he would have certainly listened to his explanations for that bloody gesture and for how they should have ruled the world together, and, sooner or later, he would have understood, agreeing with his decisions and following his advices; finally, he would have definitely stood with him: he would have assumed command at his side and everything would have been back to normal. They would have had fun together again, exploring unknown places, joking with each other, exchanging cuddles, kisses and more, and, in the end, the man would have gathered the courage and declare his love for him. He loved his little snowflake with all his heart, denying it was useless: he just had to tell him that and enjoy his reaction, which would have undoubtedly been as amazed as happy. Everything would have been perfect, full of affection and cleansed of every lie: the only allowed evil would have survive in the Nightmares which would have haunted the Earth, scaring all the children and finally spreading the belief in the Boogeyman.

While he indulged in these sublime plans Pitch looked down and saw that Jack had broken free from the Innexiae, destroying them and running towards his friends; upset the man started to evoke new ones, but, horrified, he realized that Behemuth had already noticed the boy and was turning the attention of a large part of his army towards him.

Slowly all the creatures that were not engaged in a direct struggle swarmed in the large open space under Pitch, colliding and fighting against each other. At each bite those rough skins, instead of split up, glued together, tensing to the excess in order to remain united, then, like wax, they melted, trickling on the bodies and merging them with each other; seething limbs and torsos consolidated themselves, sometimes collapsing and leaving deformed orbits, but immediately ready to melt to plug every hole, and, when the process ended, Behemuth revealed his true form: it was a cecrops.

Its hybrid body occupied almost the whole clearing inadvertently created by North during his fall, and, albeit grotesque in its rough asymmetry, it had its own charm, so much that, initially, the Boogeyman couldn't react: enchanted and horrified at the same time he stared at the serpentine coils, massive but sinuous, which twirled ceaselessly, suffering from the shrill sound which the scales emitted when they slithered one over the other and quivering at the sight of the three razor- sharp crests which grew on the back.

With a great effort of will, the man moved his gaze until he spotted the boundary between the beast and the human: on that reptile body, in fact, a male bust was grafted, impressive in his outstanding physique, but especially in his overt lethality. Solemn as a priest he rose up slowly, first showing his bent back covered by a long and wild mane, then the broad shoulders and, finally, the chest, cut by the sharp shadows of its muscles; it really seemed to take a breath as it raised his keen face, dilating its aquiline nose' nostrils and slowly baring its teeth, but that should be more an exhibitionist whim than a real need: a creature like it breathed fear, not air.

Wary Pitch glided, careful not to get noticed while he quickly came to the aid of Jack who, terrified by the apparition, was frozen in place, his crystalline irises so wide opened to show the whole cornea: there was no time, for Pitch, to despair or panic, he had to hurry up and bring him to a safety place before the monster awaked completely, or his snowflake would have risked to get hurt. Albeit with his heart in his throat he continued to glide calmly, repeating himself that, if he had acted wisely and staying focused, he would have easily solved the thorny problem, but a sharp sound froze the blood in his veins: the boy, stepping back, had put his foot on a branch, crashing it.

Behemuth immediately opened his eyelids wide, revealing two dreadful, unhealthy cadmium-yellow coloured eyes and letting out a low growl; oblivious of prudence the Boogeyman called in a loud voice the beast, but it was useless: even if it had no pupils it was clear that it had spotted Jack and that it would have not let him go easily. As if to confirm this, the creature opened his arms, evoking in its right hand a heavy falchion and starting to move forward with its back straight, its firm and hard expression devoted to destruction, and the man took a heartbeat to decide what to do.

He had reminded to himself several times that everything was expendable in the way which would have built his new empire, but power would not have had any sense, for him, without the boy's tender company: being alone again, surrounded by hatred and crowds of Nightmares instead by love and hugs, deafened by screams instead of gentle laughter, would have been an unbearable pain in an empty existence. He had survived centuries without the solace of affection, plodding from a victim to another in the gruelling effort to show himself to the world, but the truth was that he had begun to live only in the moment in which Jack had responded to his first kiss: his caresses, his kind encouragements, all the sweet moments he had given him and even the sensual one had filled the emptiness he had felt in the heart, healing wounds that his dark work, albeit welcome, had never been able to soothe. No, the man would have never allowed such a mess: he had waited ages to find love, and he would have defended it at all costs.

Renouncing to crush the Guardians he sent the most aggressive Pureblood he had to free them from the hellish creatures: he hadn't forgiven them yet, of course, but, in order to better control Behemuth, he had to make it absorb all its appendices again, turning into a single creature.

After this he evoked a whip of black sand and he lashed the back of the beast, flogging it until he hooked up the numerous small horns which adorned its forehead like a crown and pulling to force it to turn around; when he was certain he had obtained, at least, its partial attention, he took a deep breath, in order to stay focused, and he roared: «Obtuse creature, how do you dare to ignore my orders? It was me who summoned you, it was me who brought you in this world, it was me who found enemies to feed you with! I am your lord and master, without me you'd still be trapped in the timeless limbo where I saved you from, so you owe me blind obedience! Now turn around and go back to fight, or I will bring you underground again: I have a whole world to conquer, if you are not able to carry out my orders you're useless, and, if you're useless, I don't want you on my way».

The creature stood motionless for several seconds, assuming a puzzled and a bit dazed expression on his marked features face: it was obvious that it struggle hard to understand the words it ha heard; well aware of the monster's strong instinctiveness Pitch clearly showed all the anger he felt because of the inappropriate taking initiative, piercing it with an authoritarian and severe gaze and pulling it towards the four wounded Guardians, and, finally, Behemuth seemed to understand.

With great effort he turned the bust to spot the enemies which had been indicated to it, preparing itself for battle and forgetting the little boy who had dared to stand in front of him, but just when everything seemed to go right the inevitable happened.

When the Boogeyman had decided to change his strategy, sending his nightmares in aid of the Guardians, Bunnymund was about to be overwhelmed: bruised and bewildered, blinded by blood which dripped all over his fur and almost crushed by the shadows around him, he took a lot to break free, losing the last scenes and hearing only the final sentence of the man's speech; obviously he drew the wrong conclusion and, his voice cracked in panic, he shouted: «Jack, get out of there, run away!».

The beast needed just to follow, with his eyes, the Pooka's outstretched paw to see Jack and bring back all the attention on him: then, as it was his nature, with a roar it twisted its coils and crouched to attack him.

Desperate Pitch knew immediately that it was too late to stop it and he didn't hesitate: he dropped the whip and lunged towards him, flying at breakneck speed in order to pass Behemuth and managing, with a final twitch, to shove the boy away.

In the heat of the moment he run for few steps to lose momentum, but he immediately turned towards Frost: with bated breath he watched him standing up supporting on his hands, rubbing his right shoulder and then turning around; as soon as he saw his sweet face confused but not upset with pain he smiled, happy to know he had saved him, but the boy, in return, got horrified and began to tremble. The Boogeyman felt a warm breath slipping down his spine and he concluded that the imminent threat was the cause of Jack's terror, but, when he tried to turn around and he didn't manage to, he realized that that was not the problem.

Slowly he lowered his eyes and saw that the monster had struck him: its falchion was had sank to the hilt, tearing the flesh between the lungs and the stomach and piercing him through from side to side. Engrossed by the emotions of the battle Pitch hadn't noticed it at all, and even at that moment he felt nothing but pure astonishment: absurdly he seemed to be a mere spectator of the macabre scene.

Clear headed as he had ever felt in his entire life he realized he had done all wrong: in his clumsy attempt to protect the boy from a supposed danger he had dragged him into a real one, risking to hurt both his body and his feelings; blinded by the fear of losing him he had acted without thinking, demonstrating what Frost had said him few months before: even the Boogeyman could become prey of terror. He had a short and senseless fit of hilarity at that thought, but, instead of laughing, he coughed black blood and he shook himself: it was true, unfortunately he had made many mistakes in the last few hours, but he had never overestimated his own abilities, and that was the right time to exploit them.

He firmly grabbed the blade, ignoring the edge which cut his hands almost to the bone, and he opened his mind to the beast: he replied to the bloody images which it sent him with the most beautiful and moving memories about his sweet love, advancing in the violence with serenity, plunging more and more in that arcane conscience which did everything to crush him, and, when he had reached the deepest layer of the being, he stopped and whispered: «I'm not afraid of you».

Now defeated Behemuth screamed, with all the breath he had, desperately clawing at the ground and writhing in order to escape his fate, but it was all vain: in few seconds it collapsed and broke down into dust and it was sucked underground, where he would have remained helpless, until a new fool had decided to release him. As fast as it had begun everything ended: the hellish creature dragged away with himself the bestial cries, the hot stench it emanated and the blood it had lost, leaving the clearing devastated, but quiet, fresh and unblemished as it should have always been.

Lost the support of the sword and weakened by his last gesture the man slid to the ground without a lament, but Jack leapt at him, making him laying down on his knees and clutching his chest between his bony arms. In a daze Pitch looked at those crystal clear eyes, which he adored so much, now filled with tears, and smiled at the boy: Frost was alive and unharmed, he had saved him just as a loving partner should do and he didn't need to worry about him. Oh, he had so many things to tell him, so many missed opportunities to recover, that he almost didn't know where to begin! The time of pride and shyness, however, was over and he had to get ready and speak.

He tenderly stroked Jack's right cheek, but only when he realized he had soiled it with something black he recognized his own blood; now, however, he was too tired to be surprised, frightened or able to fully understand the situation, so he didn't give importance to it.

«L-little snowflake...» he murmured with difficulty.

He tried to see the boy's reaction behind the veil of tears that clouded his irises, but he didn't managed to, and fell into oblivion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it ;) did you expected this? Next chapter will be published on Wednsday ^^
> 
> p.s. Tomorrow I will go to a Comicon, so, if you comment, just have a little patience ^^ I will answer you in the evening! Have a nice day!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really REALLY sorry for the late: unfortunately the gentle girl who check out my translations was busy. I will publish three chapters this week, in order to make up for lost time, but I'll explain this better at the end of the chapter, now I'll let you read: I hope this chapter will be worth the wait

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 20**

 

 

Darkness. It was the first thing he perceived: it was dark, and it was cold. He wasn't scared: he was used to darkness, it was his essence, and he had often experienced frost. But then, he saw two lights: they were small, light yellow and almost green, and they inexplicably seemed to attract the darkness around them, making it condense. Intrigued Pitch stared at them, trying to disclose the mystery: he watched them flickering and then moving toward him, he saw a mouth bristling with teeth gaping under them and he felt an unhealthy warmth wrapping his body, and he understood. And when he did, he was scared, and, terrified, he turned to flee, desperately trying to escape the clutches of the creature that he himself had evoked.

 

 

Pitch moaned in his sleep and Jack, who was washing a cloth in a bowl next to him, immediately hurried to check him, but, as soon as he saw him, he got himself down: his condition had followed a downward spiral in the last hour, and yet there were no signs of improvement.

He would have never forgotten that gesture, as altruistic as mad, which had started all this: the way in which the Boogeyman had come between him and Behemuth to save him, after having recklessly putting him in danger, had been the most generous and touching act Frost had ever seen, and the gentle words he had whispered with difficulty, not managing to finish the sentence, had literally broke his heart. Feeling him slipping lifeless in his arms had almost killed him: how would he have lived without him after all they'd experienced together? The kisses, the fights, the caresses, the bites, the cuddles, the tens of shared experiences, how could he have kept inside himself memories so special knowing that the past would have never come back? He could not, it wasn't fair: he had found love less than three months before, after three hundred years of solitude, he couldn't loose it, and so, at the cost of killing himself, he would have prevented that.

It was because of this reason that, instead of despairing, he had boldly grasped him with his arms, dragging him through snow and debris until he had got within the earshot of the Guardians, who were still recovering from the attack, and screaming: “Please, help me!”.

Toothiana was the first to rush, flying with difficulty towards him, but she had covered her mouth with her hands at the sight of the terrible gash on the man's chest, and she had fallen on her knees, unable to react; however, just when Frost had begun to fear that he would have never received help, North had come forward, throwing a snow globe and gently taking Pitch in his arm, then he had advanced and guided all of them in the portal.

In the blink of an eye they had reached Santa Claus' Palace, and the master of the house, giving few quick orders to the Yetis, had stridden into the room where he used to design his toys; once he had cleared out, without hesitation, the big table of instruments and ice models, he had placed on it the Boogeyman and he had immediately set to work to clean up the wound, assisted by the fairy.

The boy had kept himself at due distance, in order not to hinder the two improvised nurses, a bit frustrated in knowing he didn't have the capacity to help them, but well aware that, even if he had intervened with the best intentions, he would have done nothing but slowing them down; the woman, however, seeing him spasmodically biting his thumb with a worried expression, had asked him to assist them, and Jack hadn't needed to be asked twice, volunteering himself to pass them new cloths, wash the dirty one, unfold the bandages and earnestly support his lover's head. He had never turned away, because he wanted to be aware of the seriousness of the situation and share the pain that Pitch, with no doubt, felt, but he couldn't have hold back a groan when he had seen his garments dissolve into dust.

"Jack, do not worry: I will not look, and soon we will give him other clothes" had tried to reassure him the fairy.

Jack, however, had replied that that was not the problem: the reason why he had felt so sad and tormented was that, since the robe and the trousers had faded away, the Boogeyman should have been completely worn out.

Few minutes after the wounded had been bandaged and spotlessly clean, and North had gently carried him into a secluded room, which had prepared especially for him: made cosy by the wood furniture and Christmas decorations and heated by a large fireplace, was ideal for a convalescence patient and, in fact, this was readily settled in the big bed and covered up to the waist, in order not to make him catch cold.

Unfortunately, all those attentions had been useful: the man had never woke up, he had turned so he showed his veins' intricate pattern, he had started to sweat and he had had an attack of fever. Now hours had passed and the situation hadn't changed the least: Sandman was still out to send sweet dreams to children, in order to reassure them after Behemuth's appearance, Santa Claus was attending to firewood and blankets, Bunnymund was muttering in a corner of the room and the boy and the fairy switched at taking care of Pitch.

Frost substituted for the umpteenth time the wet cloth on his forehead, trying to cool it down with his frost power to give him a bit of relief, then sat down at his bedside and touched his right arm, amazed by how that velvet skin could have become so transparent and fragile; he slowly went down to entwine his fingers with his ones, then he brought on his cheek, as if to ask a caress, but no contraction moved those phalanges, and this was too much to bear for the boy.

With a sob he cracked up, crying and convulsively clutching his partner's hand, and, in a voice broken with grief, he said: «Tooth, I can't watch him dying like this! I can't bear it...».

«This is what he deserves!» snapped the Pooka.

The fairy pierced him with a withering look and she was about to retort, but Jack interjected her: «No, Tooth, it's not necessary. At this time knowing that Bunnymund thinks that doesn't hurt me, and, in the end, even if he was too harsh, he told the truth: Pitch himself summoned that monster, and now he's simply suffering the consequences of his mad gesture. But I can not stay here and watch him dying, that's enough, he suffered enough! He understood by his own his mistake and he amended, he even sacrificed himself to save me, now he deserves to feel good! Why do our treatments not work? I want to do something for him, I want to reciprocate his gesture, I want to see him smile again. You have no idea how beautiful he is when he smiles, you've never seen him: he changes completely, revealing his human side and a humour which you wouldn't expect from him, and his eyes, oh, his eyes loose the usual evil expression and glow like gold! I adore to watch them and see the love which animates them, and I want to keep doing it».

«Jack, you don't have to worry, Pitch will recover soon...» began the woman.

«No!» exclaimed the boy; «No, do not tease me. I'm not smart, but I'm not even stupid: he never woke up, he lost so much blood, he's becoming more and more pale and weak, his forehead is burning and the wound is more swollen than when we bandaged it! It got infected, even though we cleaned it».

«I noticed that, Jack, in fact I was going to clean up the wound and change the bandaging. Do you want to go and take new gauzes? » encouraged him Toothiana with a thoughtful look.

«No, it's not enough: if it didn't work before, it will not work now either».

«Oh, Jack, I wish I could do more, but I don't know how! I've never taken care of such wounds and, unfortunately, I don't know Pitch well enough: I think that the only thing we can do is taking care of him and wait until he recovers on his own» she confessed, contrite, the fairy.

«He will never recover on his own: his breath is getting weaker and now we can barely feel the pulse on his wrist. He's passing away, and I feel I am dying with him. I am sure you can do something to help him, it's impossible that there is no remedy, and, if a remedy exists, you, who are the Guardian of Memory, know it or how to find it. Maybe now you don't remember it, maybe you don't have enough self-confidence to dare thinking about it, but I know that you have the solution! Please, Tooth, please, I'll do everything for you, I'll build a thousand new buildings with my own hands, but tell me what I should do: tell me how not to die consumed» asked her Frost, staring at her with a pleading look. He didn't care to hold back the tears, he didn't care to stifle his sobs, he didn't care even to disguise the fact that he had spoken about his death, rather than Pitch's one: concealing his own feelings in such a situation was senseless and, even if he had wanted to, he would have never managed to, because the fear of not being able to save his love was too big to leave room for other thoughts.

The woman tried to say something, but no sound came out of her mouth, and soon, with a contrite expression, she lowered her irises, as to childishly spare him the pain of a disappointing response. At that sight the boy slowly relaxed the muscles and flopped on himself, as if accepting that refusal was a burden too heavy for him; he stood still a moment, then he curled up on the pillows beside the Boogeyman, hiding his face worn out by tears against his shoulder, feeling childish in doing so, yet finding no alternative solution to hiding to avoid being crushed.

A few minutes passed, while he stood holed up in that makeshift nest, unable both to react and to think, but from that almost catatonic condition a gentle voice came to wake him up and, albait tired of listening to words which didn't bring him hope, he rose to pay attention.

«Jack, I had an idea: we could look in Guardians' book» suggested Toothiana.

«Tooth, there's a good reason why if it's called the "Guardians" book and not the "dark monsters who just want to destroy everything around them" one, don't you think?» hatefully commented Bunnymund.

«Oh, Bunnymund, come on, cut it out! We all understand that you're still awfully angry with Pitch because of what he did, and, to be thorough, know that both me and North are still very disappointed with him, but this is not the time to punish him! The Boogeyman is dying, he can't even hear your offences, so it's time to hurry up and do something for him: you know well that, if he disappeared, we slowly vanish, too. However, if you just can't believe what I just told you and save him for children's sake, do it for Jack's sake: he's suffering because of your cruel insensitivity, and it's not fair that you act so rudely in front of the one who saved your life. Remember that he did it out of pure generosity and after all of us, and you in particular, had cold shouldered him, calling him a traitor: you owe him a lot for this and it's time to repay your debt» said in a firm voice the fairy.

At this rebuke the Pooka lowered his ears and stared at her, dumbfounded, as if he could not believe what he had just heard, but, as soon as he crossed Jack's lifeless eyes, he felt guilty and took on a contrite expression; the boy, however, didn't react at all, and, when he saw him leaving the room, he just hide again his face against Pitch's arm, trying to sense the moss scent he adored so much under the hideous one of disease which permeated the air.

He stood there, nestled against his partner, passively breathing and immersed in a hushed and timeless silence which seemed to be suspended between life and death, and he couldn't say if it had been passed seconds, minutes or hours when a high-pitched voice disturbed him; reluctantly he shook himself and paid attention, and he heard Toothiana shouting: «Jack, I found a chapter about the Guardians' diseases!».

Frost took a while to understand the statement, but, as soon as he managed to, he jumped up and spurred her: «Then go on and read!».

The fairy didn't waste a moment and she began: «The Guardians are eternal and timeless creatures, and they're invulnerable to common evils, such as ageing and diseases which infect humans and animals, but, in extreme situations, they can be affected by disturbances absolutely unique. The Guardians, in order to survive, need children who believe in them, and if they fail..." no, this part is not interesting for us: I'll go on. Let me take a look... ah, here it is! "The Guardians are perpetually engaged in the fight against evil, which aims to maintain the right balance between the two powers, and they may be wounded in battle; in this case it's possible that one or more enemies manage to inoculate their poison in their body, causing them dizziness, massive blood loss, high fever, infections and, finally, death. The traditional treatments are not sufficient to make them heal, because the disease affects not only the physique, but also the spirit, debilitating it with nightmares and other unpleasant obsessions and preventing it from recovering. In these cases we recommend the use of the Absinthium Himalayanis..."».

«What's that?» impatiently interrupted her the boy.

«It's a particular herb, it's drawn here, do you see?» explained Toothiana; «It 'a plant which grows only on the Himalayas, over an altitude of seven thousand meters, a variety of wormwood which the ancestors of North's Yetis cultivated. I've never seen a plant in person and it's ages nobody talks about them, I hope that some specimens have survived despite the absence of treatment. The book, however, doesn't explain how to use it: what should we do? An infusion? A pack?».

Jack barely heard the last two sentences, too happy for what they had just discovered: there was a remedy, and he could still hope.

Without hesitation he grabbed the book, carefully studying the reproduction of that little purple seedling that hid in itself in the solution, then he firmly said: «I'll go and pick it up».

The woman opened wide her irises and exclaimed: «Jack, are you sure? The Himalayas is far from here and that herb could be anywhere on those mountains: you might need days to find it! Wouldn't you rather stay here with Pitch?».

«And in order to do what, to watch him die? To pass away with him, knowing I did nothing to help him, but just cried cry like a baby? No, thanks: I prefer to try the impossible rather than pity myself. I prefer to risk he would die without me at his side rather than knowing I didn't try everything in my power to save him» confessed the boy, his voice cracked with grief.

«Oh Jack, but we could go there instead of you! We would carefully search until we find it, wouldn't we, North?» asked the fairy.

Santa Claus, who, until that moment, had silently listened to the conversation, answered with a serious tone: «Yes, Tooth, we would search carefully, but we can not. Behemuth destroyed all my snow globes, I saved only the one in the secret pocket, but I used it to come here. I have no others left: they are difficult to create, Yetis are working but they need three days to make them, and for the slide at least three weeks».

«But I can fly there, and Sandy could, too, and Bunnymund could reach us with his tunnels!» suggested Tooth.

«No, you would just catch cold: you can't come. I'll go: I'm used to that climate and I can control wind and snow, it will not be difficult, for me, finding that herb. In the meantime you can try to figure out how to use it. I'll leave immediately» concluded Frost.

He stood up and he was about to stride away, but, when he reached the doorway, he retraced his steps to look at Pitch; he saw him pale and emaciated, shivering because of the fever and the disease which consumed him, the shade of the man with whom he had fallen in love, but she still loved him, and he intensely prayed within himself he could return the strong and proud person he had always been. He gently leaned over him, to say him goodbye with a chaste kiss, but he almost winced when he felt his partner's lips, usually soft and velvety, albeit thin, dry and hot: he was suffering a lot.

With a pained look he turned toward the woman and begged: «Please, Tooth...».

«Yes» she interrupted him, silently starting to cry; «I swear to you, I'll take care of him all the time: I won't let him die while you're away. But now hurry up: dry your tears and start your quest».

Encouraged by these words the boy ran out, without looking back, going out of the opening on the roof of Santa Claus' Palace and evoking the fastest winds of the North he knew to ride them, the Boogeyman's image well clear in his mind as a spur to proceed as quickly as he could.

 

«Damn!» yelled Jack, coming out with difficulty from the narrow cave into which he had crawled to search the special herb.

Since he had arrived in the Himalayas nothing had gone right: the winds and the cold were too strong and wild to be tamed, the mountains too vast to be explored quickly and the possible hideaway too numerous to be checked completely. Determined not to be disheartened by misfortune he had not given up and, albeit buffeted by the winds and blinded by the snow, he had began his quest on the first peak he had spotted, taking care not to miss any nook or cranny and even digging in the white blanket in the areas where it seemed to him the snow had built up recently; now, however, hours had passed, and the quest had been unsuccessful.

Frustrated he punched the ice wall on his right and he was nearly buried by the small avalanche he caused: at last he managed to deflect it with his stick, but, trying to dodge it, he got wedged between it and the icicles on the ceiling; exasperated he squirmed, so hard he even tore his hoodie, and when he managed to break free he fell on the snow below.

He would have liked to scream, sail into his bad luck and raze those mysterious mountains which didn't want to reveal their secrets, but, in the end, he swallowed the anger and crouched in the snow: blow off steam like that would have been not only immature and useless, but also harmful. He had no time for rage and irrationality, he had no time for despair, he had no time for anything: Pitch was dying and he had to continue the quest.

Setting aside the fear and the sense of powerlessness he stood up, trying to think with a clear mind: where could the herb probably be? Of course, in a place protected from wind and weather, but not too hidden, otherwise it wouldn't have received enough light to grow; therefore was ideal looking for the caves' entrances and the crevasses' wall, and, considered that the herb loved altitude, it was better to start from the peaks and then go down.

Now calm he stood up and, leaving the cave where he was, he realized that the gusts had died down and the clouds had thinned out enough to show a hitherto hidden summit: massive, pointed, it proudly stood out above the others, and on the east side it had several ravines suitable for small colonies of absinthe.

Finally animated by a new hope he flew up to those rocky concretions, relying on his instinct to poke into every hole and at the foot of each ledge, and, after few minutes, his frantic efforts were rewarded.

Crying with joy he snatched from the ground a purple seedling: it was well developed, but clearly at the end of its life cycle, since the ten leaves which adorned was almost completely withered, to the point that he hardly recognized it. A small tear rolled down his right eye at the thought he had worked so hard to get such a little result, but he didn't let the despair catch him: for now he would have brought the herb to North's Palace, hoping Toothiana could obtain something from it, then he would have immediately returned to the Himalayas to seek other ones. After all, if he had managed to find that, he had the proof that, despite the neglect, the absinthe had not extinguished, and, if it had not extinguished, he would have certainly been able to catch new specimens!

With a moved glance he carefully tucked the absinthe into his hoodie's pocket, holding back the unstitched hems with the left hand and firmly grasping the staff with his right one, then he flew away, heading with his heart in his throat to his love in agony.

 

 

Darkness. Cold. Fear. This and only this Pitch could feel in his rushing escape. He didn't know how long he had been running away, if for minutes, months, or an entire lifetime: it seemed to him that there was not and had never been anything else than that gnawing dark world filled with faceless and nameless creatures.

Out of breath from running and panic he went on, trying in vain to leave the monsters which were chasing him behind, but the distance between them continued to get short, to the point that now he felt their warm breaths on his neck and their shadows climbing along his legs.

Suddenly he stumbled and he disastrously fell down, and, in order not to get caught, he reduced himself to crawl: he clawed at the incoherent ground with his fingers, sinking them into the earth and trying to trail himself away from the horde, but just when he was sure he would have been overwhelmed the army froze.

It was a desperate cry which dispersed it, a scream so acute to deafen the Boogeyman; taken by surprise, he covered his ears, not caring about his dirty hands at all just to be able to defend himself against those shrill notes, but soon he heard them getting distorted until they assumed a familiar tone, and, when he turned to check, he had the chilling confirmation of his suspicions.

His sweet snowflake was there, few yards away, wrapped by dark tentacles which coiled everywhere on his body to smother him, and he was valiantly trying to reach out to him for help: he squirmed, shook his arms, flied and then dropped down, trying every possible trick to break free, and yet, the more he moved, the more he drowned in that evil sand, which had now almost come to his neck.

With his heart in his throat Pitch reached out forward towards him to help him, but the ground melted down under his feet, sticking to his limbs in viscous threads that hindered his movements; animated by the strength born of desperation he managed to break free and start to run, but, just when he was about to reach the boy, what he feared most happened.

The sand that surrounded Jack began to swirl, thickening behind him until it assumed a definite and, unfortunately, known shape, and Behemuth, become incarnated again in all its fearsome powers, grabbed the hostage with his left hand, while with his right hand he lifted its heavy falchion. It was a matter of a moment: a second before Frost was on the verge of gaining freedom, and a second later he was pierced from side to side by the sword.

Screaming in anguish the Boogeyman caught him as he fell, getting wet with his blood and calling his name to make him not close his eyes, but it was too late: those irises so clear they seemed two spring of pure water had got muddy, and nothing would have ever been able to bring back life in them.

Crying the man hugged him tightly, as if to hold back his soul, which, instead, should have already gone far away, but flashes of memories came to his mind: the snowy clearing, the Guardians coming, the battle, the nameless beasts merging with each other, the situation getting out of his hand and finally the solution of the tragedy. The boy had been, yes, in serious danger and had almost risked to die, but he had intervened to save him and he had managed to drive away the monster!

«No, Jack is not dead: Jack is still alive, I saved him and he's still alive! I've dropped you back into the shadows, Behemuth, and you will remain in the shadows forever, you can't hurt him!» cried Pitch.

At these words the shape of the monster flickered and dissolved, and the Boogeyman felt Jack stirring in his arms: he gently helped him to lift his head, moved, staring at his angelic face and getting lost in his irises come back to life, and he laughed at that vision so blithe, but soon the idyll ended.

As soon as he tried to bend down to kiss him the boy whispered: «It 's true, you saved me, but now I don't love you any more».

The man felt a sharp pang in the heart and, when he looked down, he saw his chest pierced by the deep wound he had got in battle; he immediately let Frost go and tried to plug it, stopping the gushing blood, but his partner intervened, moving away his hands and sinking his fingers into the gash to enlarge it and tear it apart with his nails, suddenly become long and sharp.

Shocked Pitch, at first, only tried to weakly move him away, but, as soon as he realized that he was not his lover, but just another shape-shifting beast, he struck him violently to the head, tearing his skin and hair off to reveal a blackened skull and screaming: «Go away, you're no Jack, you 're not real!».

The demonic creature was not discouraged and attacked him again, and the Boogeyman fought back, defending himself nails and teeth, struggling to get out of this nightmare, and, finally, he managed to.

With a gasp he opened his eyes and stretched out his right arm in front of himself, sitting up and calling the name of his little snowflake, then he realized he was awake and he looked around, puzzled: at first he spotted the big bed where he had been lying and the soft blankets which covered him, then a big fireplace and finally, the furniture, simple but nice, adorning the cosy room where he was.

A high-pitched voice on his right side interrupted his observation, exclaiming: «Oh, Pitch, finally you woke up! I'll admit it, you've never shown signs of recovery and I was fearing the worst, but you managed to defeat those nightmares all by yourself! You've been good, really good. I am sure that the most dangerous phase has passed: now let me check you and poultice you and, believe me, you'll recover quickly!».

Still confused Pitch turned to Toothiana and asked, genuinely concerned: «Where is Jack?».

The fairy stroked his forehead to calm him and, with a smile, she answered: «Don't worry, Pitch: he's fine, he didn't get wounded during the battle. He himself collected the herb with which I made this mixture, and he had just left to pick up new seedlings. He'll be back soon from the Himalayas, and he will certainly be happy to see you awake».

«He's alive, I was sure...» murmured the Boogeyman, falling back on the pillows.

«Pitch, do you feel dizzy? Please, struggle not to close your eyes right now: hold on a little longer, so I will manage to change you the bandages! I'll ask North to help you, okay? North, come and give me a hand: Pitch woke up!» shouted the woman.

After few seconds Santa Claus' silhouette appeared in the doorway and, striding forward, he laughed and demanded: «Pitch, finally you deigned to wake up! I gave you too comfortable bed, isn't it? And you still have not thanked me for welcome!».

Stunned by the tone, too high, the man struggled to understand what he had told and, perceiving him putting an arm around his shoulders, he didn't protest: he allowed him to settle his limbs in order to free up the chest, and he tamely leaned against him when he felt him supporting him until he sat up.

While Toothiana removed his bandage he asked in a faint voice: «Why are you helping me?».

«You think we hate you, don't you? You're wrong: we've never hated you. We know you do a tough job, we know how frustrating is, for you, working hard and see that children don't believe in you for long after a nightmare, and we've always been sorry about this, but we didn't know how to help you and, in the rare occasions when we met, we have always fought. It 's true, you're the only one who evoked Behemuth and put yourself in this situation, moreover to defeat us, but we know that you understood your mistake: you've suffered enough, and Jack did, too» explained the fairy.

While she was speaking Pitch, in a daze, watched her untying the bands which enveloped him, and he didn't react when they fell to the ground, revealing a deep and irregular gash. The woman, on the contrary, struggle a lot in order not to gasp and she immediately hurried to remedy the mess: at first, with a damp cloth, she removed the dried blood, mixed with the serum, which had leaked on the stomach, then the clotted one who had partially occluded the wound; she patiently cleansed up every trace of infection, gently dabbing at the flesh, but, feeling it spongy and insensitive, she raised his head, sorrowful, and she said: «Pitch, your wound got infected and the flesh has started to gangrene: I have to remove it before the necrosis spreads, but unfortunately I have neither the knowledge nor the time to find a medicine which could make you not feel pain. Do you understand me?».

The Boogeyman weakly nodded and he didn't get anxious when he saw her take a scalpel from a tray next to her: he had never feared physical pain, and he was more than capable to endure it in order to survive.

Reassured by the positive response Toothiana leaned against his chest and began to cut, removing all the dead tissue and trying to be as gentle as possible, and Pitch bit his lip in order not to let out a lament: he knew well he was weak and helpless at that moment, and completely dependent on those who had always considered his bitter enemies, but he was too proud to admit he was suffering.

«I've finished my work, Pitch, you've been really very good! Fortunately, there were very few tissues to be removed, so they won't need a long time to grew again. Now I'll poultice you, bandage you and let you rest again, okay? Hold on just a little longer» encouraged him the fairy.

The Boogeyman didn't answer, but, as soon as he felt the mixture trickling on the gash, he groaned: it burnt like lava.

«Pitch! Are you okay?» asked immediately North.

«I-it burns...» stammered the man, trying to hold back the tears.

«I thought it might have happened, but it burns because it's fighting against the infection: bite the bullet and it'll make you feel better!» exhorted him the woman, continuing to apply the medicine.

With a start Pitch bit his lip, clutching frantically his fingers around North's muscular forearm, but he didn't resist long: the pain was too intense to be endured in silence, and, rather than risking to tremble too much, hindering the work of the improvised nurse, he preferred to swallow his pride and let out some laments.

Toothiana, on her part, was as sensitive and rapid as she could: in few moves she dabbed the wound with the medicament, then she bandaged him with clean strips and she passed hands light as a feather on his chest to make sure it was all right.

«Tooth, have you finished? If you do not need me any more control I can call Sandy and ask him to make Pitch sleep: golden dreams would do well, don't you think?» suggested Santa Claus.

«Oh, sure, it's a great idea! Bring him here, I'll wait and keep Pitch awake» replied the fairy.

While the master of the house strode away the Boogeyman protested weakly: «No, I don't want to sleep, I want to see Jack, let me stay awake...».

«Oh, Pitch, don't throw tantrum! Jack will be back soon, but he could need two minutes just as two hours. You are still weak and you need to rest! Don't worry, dear, I'll wake you as soon as he will be here, because you'll have to take the medicine again. I hope that the new seedling will have leaves pulpy enough to let me extract the juice. Oh, right, I forgot to tell you this: the firsts which Jack gave to me were dry and I would have bet they were perfect for a brew, but they didn't release anything in the boiling water! That's the reason why I have done that sort of pack: it was the only way to recover them, but I'm afraid it is not sufficient as a medicine, so, in order to try again, I asked Jack to collect other Himalayan absinthe. Maybe do you know the most effective method to extract the cure from that herb? You are an ancient creature, you certainly saw it, maybe few centuries ago! Do you remember it? It's a purple seedling which grows only in the Himalayas! Oh, sorry, maybe I'm talking too much, am I not?» commented the woman with a high-spirited tone.

The man, stunned by that talkativeness, simply tilted his head, chuckling, and Toothiana, in order to help him calm the coughing fit he had had, sat down beside him, gently caressing his neck and cheek and combing the hair locks which the sweat had stuck to his forehead. She continued for more than a minute, patiently waiting for him to recover; while he pulled himself together Pitch got surprised, seeing he wasn't dodging her, and, settling down better, he thought: why didn't he shoo her? He was sure, he wasn't allowing her to fondle him so only because he was weak and tamely grateful for the care he had received, but also because he wanted: he liked those cuddles. They were different from those he received from Jack: they were, yes, pleasant for the body, but not exciting, and they seemed to have the power to make him relax and feel safe in a protected nest; reflecting deeply he realized that, in the end, they were like the ones his partner gave to him while he thought he was asleep: caresses delicate and without malicious by-end, which had the sole purpose of making him feel loved.

Still confused by the conflicting feelings he felt towards the fairy, the Boogeyman whispered: «The boiled leaves lose some of their effectiveness: a pack manages to thwart the advance of the infection, but not to cure. In order to make the flesh grow again and seal the wound and you have to freeze the leaves, crush them to extract the juice and then infuse them few minutes in cold water. This is what I had read in an ancient book, but I never tried».

«Oh, Pitch, thank you! I will do so when Jack will come back, and I'm sure the infusion will cure you permanently! Now, however, it is time to rest: sweet dreams, Pitch» whispered the woman.

To say him goodbye she gave him a kiss on the forehead, then she walked away, disappearing. Sandman immediately replaced her, hovering over the ground and then landing on the mattress: he thoughtfully came up beside him, staring at him with a look full of compassion, then he got closer to examine him. He looked at him for a long time, cautiously approaching him, probably fearing that the disease could infect him, too, considered that his magical sand had revealed itself corruptible, but soon he turned serene and, with a broad smile, he stretched out his arms.

The man trembled when he saw those pitiful little hands resting on his forehead: he had always received only violence from them and he still feared them, but, most importantly, he had learned by experience how much they burnt, but the fever which had devoured him had warmed up his skin with a fire that made them seem pleasantly fresh. Enchanted he saw the little Bringer of Dreams lit up, and thin strips of golden sand departing from him: almost blinded by their brightness he followed the spirals they drew and, albeit hesitant, he didn't move away when he saw them point directly at his eyes, letting them wrap him and gently guide him into a sleep less agitated than the last one.

 

Once Pitch fell asleep he was not assailed by nightmares, as it had happened until few minutes before, but the dream he had couldn't even be defined “golden”: he was in an open place, surrounded by a barren and featureless landscape, and he was proceeding aimlessly in search of a reference point. As he walked he began to notice some dark areas, which he carefully avoided, but, over time, they became so numerous they surrounded him and, albeit reluctantly, he had to go along them to continue; in a short time he began to hear sinister rustling, and the growing sensation of being observed make him speed up his pace.

He went on for a while like this, trying to quell the anxiety which gripped him, but soon he clearly felt a clawed hand grabbing him by the ankle and trying to drag him away, so he kicked and started to run. He fled quickly, dodging all obstacles and trying not to panic, but, just when is mind was going to break down, he saw a light in front of him.

Amazed he approached it and he saw that it was released by a small snow bunny, which, not scared by the monsters, was stroking its soft fur; as soon as it realized someone was observing him the animal raised its muzzle, staring at the Boogeyman with his sapphire irises, looking like he almost got bored while waiting for him, then he jumped away, spurring him to follow it and fearlessly dispelling the shadows.

The man followed it for long and he noticed that the landscape was slowly changing: the tentacles obscure diminished until they disappeared, the ground was covered with fresh grass and delicate flowers and the atmosphere became brighter, permanently erasing from his heart all the traces of fear he had felt up to that time.

Tired Pitch stopped and laid down on the grass, letting the rabbit settle down against his chest and then lovingly cuddling him; the animal reciprocated, tickling his neck with his whiskers and smelling him, but suddenly he leaped up and began pat his left shoulder with its paw. Dumbfounded, the Boogeyman at first tried to calm it down with some caress, then he picked it up to hold it, but, with a cheerful and so familiar voice, it said: «Pitch, wake up, it's time for your medicine!».

Wincing with scare the man woke up and looked around, disoriented; at first he saw, in front of himself, Toothiana, who handed him gently, but insistently, a tablespoon full to the brim with a purple liquid: too confused to fight he let her put in his mouth and he swallowed, but the drink, albeit cold, burned his throat and made him cough.

While he was recovering the fairy returned to the charge with a second ration and, feeling chased, Pitch said: «Wait, stop! What is this? Is it the infusion? At least give me a moment to breath! And then, where's Jack? You promised me he would have been when I woke up!».

«Oh, Pitch cannot live without his fiancé?» provoked him Santa Claus.

«North! Pitch, Jack is here, don't worry. He will come in few minutes, I told him to freshen up, because he was reduced in an awful state: he never wanted neither to wash himself nor to change his clothes after the battle, in order to stay next to you and not waste time. You know, I understand the anxiety, I understand the grief and the fear of losing an important moment for a thing as stupid as changing clothes, but now the worst is over and, then, we have to keep the environment clean, to avoid the risk to make the infection worse. He will be here soon: in the meantime do you want to be good and take the medicine or would you rather make him see you throwing tantrum?» teased him the woman.

«I'm not throwing a tantrum!» replied the Boogeyman, piqued but, at the same time, amazed by the fact he had so much energy to answer in kind.

Toothiana didn't give up: for the third time he handed him the spoon and, albeit terribly embarrassed, the man let her feed him; he stoically endured for few seconds, but, when he saw how much medicine he still had to take, he blurted out: «Oh, damn, cut it out and give it to me!».

With a jerk he snatched the bowl from his improvised nurse's hand and, before she could react, he drank all the contents up, swallowing every last drop of that liquid fire and allowing himself to cough only when he was sure his mouth was empty.

«Oh, Pitch, congratulations! You've already finished it, Jack will surely be proud of you! For a moment I feared you wanted to overturn it!» awarded him the fairy.

Wasting no time she took the bowl, to leave his hands free, and she gently patted his back to help him recover.

Weakened by the effort Pitch let her help him, but cold chills ran through him; confused he asked: «Why did you open the window?».

«I did not open the window!» exclaimed North.

«But it's so cold» stammered the Boogeyman.

He almost didn't have time to finish the sentence that he slipped onto the mattress, shaken by tremors; worried the woman touched him and she immediately shouted: «Damn, that medicine had side effects: Pitch is freezing! North, throw in the fire as much wood as you can and I'll try to cover him! We should have brought here many more blankets, they're not enough: I'll go to take more! Where can I find them?».

The man barely heard those fast orders, numb in mind and body by the chill which gripped his muscles, and he didn't put up any resistance when he felt something soft and almost hot make him sit up and tightly wrapping him. Curious to discover the source of this heat he struggled to open his eyes and he saw four big hairy legs, laid on his chest so as to cover it without pressing on the wound.

«Don't get any wild ideas, I'm just doing it for Jack!» snapped Bunnymund, hugging him tightly from behind.

«I do not mate with rabbits» murmured Pitch.

He wearily chuckled at that joke, but soon he no longer had the strength to even keep his eyes open: with the last glimmer of instinctive conscience he had he buried his face under in his big head, looking for more heat, then he surrendered and slipped into oblivion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I told you my friend was busy, but probably, in the future, she will manage to correct all the chapter in time. I will publish chapter 21 on Thursday and chapter 22 on Sunday.


	21. Chapter 21

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 21**

 

 

Pitch was running, running and running in a world with no light and no end, he was running for his life, but he was going towards the unknown. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know where he was going or why he fled, but he was sure there was an enemy behind him: he heard its pursuing pace, he felt its shudders and its looming presence, and he had not the courage to turn and check what that monster was. The only thing he surely knew was that it was not Behemuth: he remembered its sinuous tentacles, its clawed hands which it evoked from the ground and the hot and sticky breath he blew on his neck, and all of these elements were missing.

In an effort to control the rising panic he tried to think: what creature had a breath so frosty so as to generate snowflakes as those which, swirling, surrounded him? From what beast could come that wind, light but glacial, which penetrated to the bone? Was it a Yeti? It didn't make sense, Yetis lived in the cold, but they couldn't create it, and, moreover, there was no reason why one of them should chase him with such perseverance: it had to be something else.

He tried to think clearly for few seconds, but, when he slipped on a sheet of ice, risking to fall and injure himself, he decided that the priority, at that time, was saving himself from that killer cold, so he sped up his pace.

He couldn't say how much time had passed when he began to show the first symptoms of fatigue, nor he fully realized he had slowed down until he heard his robe creak and break up because of the layer of frost that covered it; he tried again to escape, but he was so exhausted he gave up after few steps.

He was vaguely aware that he shouldn't have surrendered, that, if he had stopped, he would have never been able to proceed, but he was worn out; he said to himself that a break wouldn't have had serious consequences, and so, with the promise to get up immediately, he dropped himself on the fresh snow that covered the ground: he didn't find it cold and wet as he expected, but as dry as flour, and, oddly, he almost felt nothing when he touched it. Dazed he sank his hands in it, playing with it like a child and creating the silhouette of an angel, but when he stopped he wasn't strong enough to stood up.

Now defeated he didn't move, lying helpless in what would have become his white grave and shedding in silence bitter tears, not for himself, since he had never really thought he deserved to exist, but for his sweet treasure: Jack had always been so loving and caring with him, as much as needy of cuddles and attentions, and he would have certainly suffered his death as a traumatic experience. Sure, he was still a strong boy, and the other Guardians would have helped him without hesitation, but, considered the attachment he had shown up until that moment, he would, no doubt, have missed him, and he would have suffered. Again. As always, anyway. Maybe it was better that way, in the end he, as the Boogeyman, had done nothing but cause him pain: he had approached him to corrupt him, seduced he had attacked him to defend himself, and, even when he had surrendered to his court, he had not give up, continuing to hurt him, saddening and disappointing him, with little or big gestures, which had culminated in the final abomination. Yes, it was true, he had been selfish and insensitive, and Frost didn't deserve a beast like him, unable to behave civilly and reluctant to be tamed: the loneliness was preferable to such a company, so he might as well die.

Slowly turning his head to a side he calmed down and, even blaming himself for the umpteenth demonstration of egocentrism, he couldn't help but think: "What I'd not pay to see him, just one last time...".

Now resigned he closed his eyes, but an indescribable heartburn on his right wrist forced him to reopen them; moaning he bent the arm, to check what was happening, and he got stunned when he saw it: the white sign which his partner's gift had left him shone with a blinding brightness, to the point that all the flesh around seemed to be lit from within.

Pierced by that burning dart he tried to soothe the pain covering it with snow, but it melted instantly, and the feeling of warmth increased so much to make him get up and move in search of relief. Limping he wandered here and there, keeping the hot arm away from his chest and trying to cool it down on the icy blocks he found along the way, but the pain gave him no rest, so, albeit groaning because of the cramps, he continued to seek. While he was walking he stumbled in a hidden clump, too worn out to be able to stand up again, he started to crawl, using his left hand and his knees to trail himself to an area unusually flat, on which he hoped to find the solution of his problem.

After few, tortured minutes he reached the goal and, sweeping the ground with his palm, he realized he was not on the mainland, but on a frozen lake. With a little smile and animated by the strength born of desperation he started to hit the barrier which separated him from the water, hoping it would have saved him, heedless of the wounds he got on the knuckles and of the probable consequences of his mad gesture: he simply continued to punch that cruel mirror, an unhealthy light in his eyes and tears he didn't remember to have shed on his cheeks.

He had to put a lot of efforts to complete the work, but this delay didn't help him to think: he rejoiced like a child when he heard the glass breaking, and like a child he screamed when he saw the cracks extending and swallow him in those dark waves. He sank quickly into that thick water, so scared he couldn't even shiver with cold; kicking out and moving his arms he tried to go up to the surface, but the current dragged him down, and his muscles were too numb to be able to win it: he went few more seconds, then he gave up, closing his eyes and stretching out his right hand, not brighter any more, towards that tiny corner of sky he saw above himself, too far away to be reached.

But then, suddenly, an incredible event happened: a hand grabbed him by the forearm and lifted him up. Animated by a new hope Pitch reacted, clinging to his saviour with all his strength and starting to swim again; when he broke the thin layer of ice that separated him from the pure air he opened wide his eyes and mouth, and he did it also in real life.

Panting he blinked and looked around, recognizing the cosy room where he had been placed by the Guardians immersed in the darkness of the dying fire, and it took a while to realize the situation: he was sitting on the bed, still shaken by the sudden awakening, and no one was there to keep him company, but he felt a sweet weight lying on his legs and stomach.

Curious he lowered the irises and saw his little snowflake's crystal clear ones: he was there, right in front of him, dropped against his chest and trapped by his forearm, which, probably, the man had instinctively moved in his sleep, and he was staring at him so amazed he seemed shocked.

In a daze Pitch stared at him in return and he didn't stop him when he saw him moving away his arm and check the sign on the wrist, where the light was slowly fading; he didn't budge when he saw him rise up and get astride his thighs, and he didn't dodge his fingers' gentle touch, which stroked the skin from the elbows to the abdomen, even when these came to rest on the wound.

He didn't feel any pain, but he realized it was not normal only when Jack pressed more firmly on the bandages: why didn't his fingertips sank into the gash? Was he healed?

He didn't have time to find an answer: the boy stared at him in disbelief, then he slowly untied the bandage and began to undo it. At first he proceeded slowly, being careful to be as gentle as possible, but soon he couldn't stand any more: with a sob he grabbed a pair of scissors from a tray placed on the night table and, rolling up the bandages, he cut them clean off.

Probably afraid of hurting the partner Frost, at first, put the sharp tool back, then he dropped the shreds of fabric on the sheets and he opened wide his irises: the cut was completely healed and there was no longer any trace of infection.

As astonished as him the Boogeyman allowed the boy to redraw the contours with the phalanges, following the clearer aura that still lingered on the skin just healed, and when he saw him raise his face smiled, joyful and moved; the reaction, however, was not the one he hoped for: instead of show him affection the other hit him with a resounding slap.

Stunned by the blow and the sudden change of sight the man groaned, then he turned to ask for an explanation, but, as soon as he saw Jack, he didn't dare to: he had never seen him so angry. His muscles were so contracted to distort his features, his teeth gritted and his eyes blinded by a rage he would have never thought could belong to him: the boy was so mad he was trembling.

«You idiot!» snapped Frost, trying, however, to keep his voice's tone low; «You're just a huge idiot! What did you plan to do with Behemuth, huh? Did you felt so strong? Did you want to crush the other Guardians once and for all? You are a fool: I reassured you many times that you shouldn't fear them and that they don't hate you, but obviously it was a speech too simple so that you could understand and believe it! And then, once you had defeated them, what would you have done? Would you have offered me to rule by your side, in a fantastic realm of shadows? Did you really think I would have accepted it with no protests? I can't believe you could be so blind! Then, however, you didn't stop there, oh, no, you didn't restrain yourself to this: you've done worse! You let that infernal beast escape, and, like an idiot, you came between it and me when it tried to strike me! And then you chased it away, you've waited for me to reach you and you talked to me, and you closed your eyes, leaving me there, alone. I had to drag you for yards, we've taken care of you all together, but you didn't react, I was here beside you but you were so far away, I couldn't reach you and I didn't know what to do, I felt so lonely and so sad and I didn't know what to do...» he said, holding his chest as to console himself.

Pitch had a heart pang at that sight: his sweet snowflake shivered continuously, his voice, from harsh, had become increasingly broken and his eyes had turned wet. By now it was clear, he had made him suffer such an indescribable pain with his senseless gesture, much more intense than he expected, and never in his life he had repented so much of an act: he should have never let his partner feel helpless, useless and drained to the point of not being able to react.

In an instinctive attempt to rectify his mistakes he hold him in his arms, letting him rest his head on his shoulder, and he whispered: «You're right, sweetie, you're right: I was an idiot when I didn't listen to you and evoked Behemuth. I'm sorry I've made you suffer, I was selfish, I didn't think about you, but only about myself: forgive me for this, sweetie».

«I felt myself dying when you closed your eyes in the clearing, I feared so much I had lost you forever» stammered the boy among the sobs.

«I know, sweetie, I know: I was afraid of not being able to see you again, too. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I did not want to hurt you like this: vent as well as you want» whispered the in his ear.

Hearing that concession Jack let himself go, snuggling against his chest and crying, and Pitch held him tightly, caressing his head to help him calm down and let out, in turn, few tears. He cuddled him for a long time, giving light kisses on his right temple and neck and scratching his nap and, noticing only at that moment he was not wearing his hoodie, he dared to creep his left hand under the white short to touch directly that hot skin and soothe the shivers that shook it.

He patiently waited for several minutes, leaving him all the time he needed to recover and exploiting it to soothe the longing he had felt and reclaim all those feelings which had always been so precious for him: joy in having found the boy's company again, serenity in feeling spiritually close to him, sweetness in cuddling him, satisfaction with the restored relationship, but also a sense of duty, because, possessive and dominant as he was, he had always taken any responsibility about Frost's welfare.

When he heard no more sobs he put his index finger under his chin, gently pressing to make him raise his face, and, when he had dried his cheeks with little kisses, he softly asked: «Do you feel better now, Jack?».

«Yes, thank you» whispered the boy, rubbing his eyes; «But I'd really feel good if you told me you will never try to destroy the Guardians again».

Broken back Pitch stiffened: that request was far too demanding for him, who hadn't still been able to understand all the events which had happened and the role played by the Guardians in the story, so he lowered his eyes without answering, to spare Jack both the immediate disappointment of a negative reply and the future one of a broken promise.

«I'm asking too much to the Boogeyman, am I not?» commented the boy.

«Jack, I...» tried to say the Boogeyman.

«No, don't say anything: it's not necessary. I asked you something which goes too much against your nature, it would be like if you had proposed me to help you destroy the Guardians. It doesn't matter, Pitch, you were kind not lying to me to string me along: I appreciate the sincerity and, for the rest, I accept you as you are. I always knew you were the Boogeyman, and you're already changed so much for me, you don't need you to do anything else: I asked you that only because I was worried about you. As I said before I felt more fear in these three days than in my entire life, you were so far away and I missed you so much! Do not ever go away: come back here, next to me».

Without hesitation Frost threw his arms around his neck, sliding his head under Pitch's bowed one and seeking his lips, and for the first time the man let him lead, opening his mouth only when he induced him to, accepting his hot tongue and shyly responding to his touch, slowly recapturing the pleasure of kissing and being kissed as if it were the first time.

He passionately reciprocated the hug, cuddling and caressing his burning body with the palms to rediscover each form, but soon he realized that something was wrong, so, albeit reluctantly, he broke the sweet union and asked: «Jack, are you fine? You're hot, it's not normal for you».

The boy chuckled softly and said: «No, Pitch, I'm not hot: my temperature is the usual one, it's you who are cold. I absorbed most of the cold the medicine generated, but I couldn't take it all away; however, don't worry: I'll remedy right now, I'll warm you up tonight».

Without further ado Jack resumed what he had to stop, redrawing Pitch's jaw with the tip of his nose and kissing his neck while, with his hands, he massaged his muscles; still groggy from the nightmares he had the Boogeyman let him court him, turning his head when the partner silently asked him more space to pass his tongue on the jugular vein and letting him touch every part of his bare skin, but when he felt him slid his fingers under the blanket to reach the hip he stiffened.

«J- Jack, wait, someone might see us» he stammered, with a faltering voice which betrayed all the fear and the embarrassment he felt.

The boy moved a little away from him, showing a reassuring but mischievous smile, and he whispered: «These are the same words that I said you few months ago, while I was looking for the laces, some nights before Christmas. Do you remember what was your answer?».

Well mindful of how he had quickly dismissed Frost's suggestion the man lowered his irises to hide the shame, but the partner gentle pressed his lips on his temple and then stood up. Without haste he got down the bed and he picked up his staff, which he had leaned against a chair beside him, then he pointed it at the door and summoned his power: in few seconds the handle and the lock were covered with a light frost and then embedded in a slide of ice, which expanded even on the wall, making impossible to both entering in and exiting from the room.

Satisfied the boy left the staff on the ground and, putting his right foot on the chair, he untied the lace which closed his trousers and dropped it on the carpet. He did the same with the left leg, then he started to undress, standing in profile: at first he took off his white shirt, getting a little stuck in the string which closed it below the throat and throwing it to a side; then he undid his pants and lowered them slowly, together with the underwear, and he returned with his back straight taking a deep breath; finally, he turned, freeing his feet from the clothes now useless and showing himself with no fear to his love.

Pitch, for his part, was amazed by the show: he had had to hold back a surprised exclamation when he had saw how boldly and deftly Jack had used his power, but when he had taken off his clothes he had been completely speechless; unable to react he had just stared at him, enchanted by the measured calmness with which he had uncovered his own skin and by the tricks of light and shadows which the fire created on it, making it look even more smooth and velvety.

Walking cautiously Jack joined him and sat by his side, but the Boogeyman fully realized he was so close to him only when he took his face in his hands and asked: «Pitch, you're still scared by nightmares, aren't you? They are still tormenting you».

«Yes» weakly murmured the man.

Since he had woken up he had realized that the danger hadn't ceased yet: while he was sleeping he had valiantly fought against the tormenting creatures, crushing the smaller and driving away the strongest; despite this he still felt exhausted, an oppressive weight burdened his heart and it seemed to him that the monsters were still there with him, hidden in the dark corners, lurked under the furniture, even intertwined in his hair and ready to open his skull, take possession of his mind and make him suffer again: no, the battle was not over yet.

«You don't have to be scared, I am here with you: we will drive away these monsters together and they will never go back» firmly stated Frost, staring into his eyes.

He gently stroked his right side and continued down the thigh, sliding his hand under the sheet and pulling it away up to the knee, and, albeit still a bit embarrassed, Pitch helped him, kicking off the blanket and opening his arms to make him go closer.

The boy didn't need to be asked twice and he sat astride his legs, resting his forearms on his chest and kissing him passionately, and the Boogeyman, thrilled, responded, cuddling his hot body and touching its every spot, stroking with his palms the thin limbs, the abdomen, the back, the neck and, finally, plunging his fingers into his hair perpetually ruffled. It was sublime, for him, being there with him, finally close after the forced separation, and feeling his hot flesh under his fingertips: it was like coming back to life after having believed to be on the verge of death for too long.

With a glimmer of lucidity he realized that, probably, he was experiencing what Jack felt all the times: from cold he was slowly warming up thanks to his partner's touch, under his attentions his muscles melted and the heart was throbbing faster and faster, and it seemed to him that his cheeks were going burning up as he struggled against excitement to breathe.

Sensing he was short of breath the Jack moved, to stoke the right side of his neck, and the Boogeyman turned his face to leave him more space, closing his eyes his lips insisted on the most sensitive areas and softly sighing when his tongue ran down his jugular, from the ear to the collarbone.

Placing his right hand on his head he lured him to slip on his shoulder, which Frost promptly kissed, but the feeling that there was something wrong made him reflect and, therefore, ask: «Jack, did the bite I had on the shoulder disappear?».

«Yes, it was just a wound, like all the others, and the medicine made it heal perfectly» reassured him the boy with a smile.

«No, it was not just a wound as another; I want it back: bite me again» said the man, staring into his eyes.

Jack immediately opened wide his irises, surprised by such a request and perhaps prone to refuse, but, as soon as he saw how resolute he was, he understood that that bite had always had a deep meaning for him, so he nodded.

Now certain that his desire would have been fulfilled Pitch relaxed and lowered his eyelids, scratching the boy's nape to make him bend down, but leaving him complete freedom of action, as well as all the necessary time to grasp what he was going to do.

Frost, in fact, was still very tense and he quite seemed not to know how to approach him: at first he kissed him along his collarbone, deliberately lengthening the path so as not to arrive too early at the destination; then he lingered on the spot he wanted to harm, capturing the skin between his lips and sucking it; finally, when he felt ready, he bit him.

The Boogeyman moaned sensually as soon as he felt his teeth sinking into his shoulder: he madly adored that kind of effusions and the feelings they gave him, and he had a desperate need to have on his skin a wound left to him by the boy, a mark which sealed their union, making each one master and property of the other and excluding the rest of the world, it didn't matter if they were Guardians, humans or monsters ready to attack.

Hugging him tightly the man opened his legs a little, to follow the chills, and, without further ado, Jack moved his right hand on his cock which was already hardening, stealing him a deep sigh and massaging it to distract him.

Pitch took only few seconds to get lost: in a vain attempt to pull himself together he tried to open wide his eyes, but the scene he saw was so blurred he couldn't even recognize the place where he was, so he closed them and he let himself go. He couldn't sense anything except for himself and his partner: his hot body and his own one warming up, his rapid breathing and his own one even more panting, his teeth sinking into his flesh and this one opening, and those sublime shivers of pain and pleasure that crossed him, merging into a perfect union and making him more and more slave to it.

In an instinctive attempt to give, at least, part of the satisfaction he felt he brought the left to his groin and stroked the boy's cock, not surprised to find it already hard and finally stealing him some acute moan; however, just when he was about to achieve the orgasm, the other broke away from his shoulder, interrupting the languid court and panting to recover.

«I won't go on: the bite is deep enough, I don't want to risk hurting you» murmured with difficulty Frost.

Holding back a frustrated groan the Boogeyman shivered, grateful to the boy for what he had done and determined not to complain about the interruption, but, just when he started to pull himself together and was about to thank him, he felt a warmth almost unbearable wrapping his erection down to the base.

Amazed he arched violently, breaking into a moan and opening wide his eyes, and he realized that Jack, taking advantage of his temporary weakness, had raised his pelvis and then slid his cock inside himself.

Considered the relative ease with which he had acted Pitch realized that the boy had duly prepared himself, exploiting, probably, his state of ecstasy to completely relax and lubing his entrance with an unknown liquid; at a second glance, however, he noticed that he was trembling and biting his lip, holding back his tears, and he realized that the movement, albeit fluid and quick, should have been sharply painful for him.

Worried he put his hands on his hips and said: «Ah, Jack, wait! You're crying, I do not want you to suffer, let me...».

«No» interrupted him his partner, his voice almost desperate.

Pitch tried to reply, but he had forgotten Frost' obstinate stubbornness: the boy, in fact, hearing him insisting, hushed him with a kiss and, noticing he was trying to move him away, grabbed his wrists with his fingers and blocked them beside his face.

Once he had immobilized him the boy relaxed, deepening the kiss and calming the tremors with deep breaths, then, holding him firmly, he began to move.

Sheding a tear of pleasure and emotion the Boogeyman let out a muffled moan and spread his legs, coming under the embrace and trying to show, albeit consistently with his shyness, how much he enjoyed it. He had immediately understood his partner's intentions and needs: in the days before Jack had suffered not only because of his illness, but also because he had felt completely helpless in front of it, and now he wanted to remedy, showing him that he was perfectly able to handle the situation and take care of him; he wanted to cuddle him and make him feel special, just as he himself was during all their meetings, dedicating to him all those little attentions which, instead, he usually received; finally, he wanted to make him fully and finally his, cancelling that distance, which, until few hours before, had seemed unbridgeable, in the most intimate way which existed, accepting him inside himself and making sure that he could see and think only about him. It was not just a whim or a momentary desire, for the boy, unite himself to the beloved, but a real need to have him as close to himself as possible, and to be the architect of his pleasure and welfare, and the man didn't dare even for a moment trying to escape, putting aside the pride and following Frost; and, besides, letting him court him was not such a great sacrifice.

The boy, in fact, although he had little experience in that field, was showing to be more than deft: after the first hesitant thrusts he had placed his feet in a more comfortable position and spread his thighs, then he had taken a slow but steady pace, moving sensually his pelvis and giving him hot chills which shook him to the depths.

After a while, perhaps reassured by his pliability or simply worn out by fatigue, Jack broke the kiss and loosened his grip on his wrists, and Pitch didn't betray his trust, sliding his palms down his arms to his waist and then grabbing him by the hips, to ease him the movements. He had to concentrate a lot in order not to get lost: Jack's body was so tight and hot, his moves so provocative, his moans so languid and the way he bit his swollen lips to hold back the shivers so exciting that he felt to be in a dream, in which everything was muffled and undefined except for the partner, and which could have only one satisfactory conclusion.

However, just when he began to pant and the air became desperately necessary, something denied it to him and, when the man opened his eyes, he saw that the boy had clasped his hands around his throat; the grip, actually, was not particularly strong, so much so it was enough, to the Boogeyman, to contract his neck's muscles to breathe again normally, but the other's gaze was hard and the tremors which shook his limbs made him understand he was using all his strength.

«Swear you will never evoke Behemuth or other monsters which could kill you» peremptory said Frost.

Finally understanding the reason of his behaviour the man relaxed and whispered: «I will never...».

« _Swear it!_ » abruptly interrupted him the boy, with tears in his eyes; «Swear on your dark sand, on your most beautiful Nightmare: swear it on the most precious thing you have».

«I swear it on you» whispered Pitch.

At that statement Jack opened wide his irises in disbelief, amazed by such a declaration, and, too embarrassed to stare back at such a grateful gaze, the Boogeyman gave a strong thrust with the pelvis, moving his hand on the other's cock and starting to stroke it.

Taken by surprise the boy arched, biting his wrist to hold back an acute and immediately following his thrusts, but few seconds of that intimate massage were enough to bring him to the limit: sinking his teeth into his own flesh he stiffened, coming in the man's fist and then collapsing in his arms.

Exhausted, even if he hadn't reached the orgasm, Pitch leaned against the fluffy pillows which supported his back, touching his partner's hip with the left and resting the right next to his own face, but Frost was not willing to give him respite: groping he seized his forearm, bringing the palm close to his mouth and licking his semen with a lost and provocative expression, then he kissed him passionately and began to move.

The situation, the other's ability and the fact he was already excited played their part, but it was certainly the boy's flavour to bring him to the limit: as soon as he felt it sliding down his throat he was overwhelmed by the memories of the first time he had tasted it, when his little snowflake, albeit flushed with embarrassment, had allowed him what he wanted most and had lend himself to any new experience, giving him moments of pure fulfilment.

Sensing that the Boogeyman was close to the orgasm Jack grabbed him by the hair and said in a voice broken with pleasure: «Ah, bite me, please!».

With one last glimmer of conscience the man found the jugular of the partner, guided by instinct after the view had abandoned him, and biting it he came into him, giving a deep and strong thrust and holding him so tightly to take his breath away.

He stood tense in that position for few moments, while hot chills continued to whimsically make his muscles contract, then he let himself go, grabbing the boy and letting him collapsing on his chest; with difficulty he settled him, in order to make him sit comfortable and breathe easily, then he began to caress his back, from the nape almost to the buttocks, to steal him few more sighs and show him the affection and the gratitude he felt for him.

After few minutes Frost let out a groan and, without moving, he murmured: «The monsters are gone, aren't they? They don't torment you any more».

Taken aback Pitch took a moment to understand that statement: the embrace had captivated him to the point that he had completely forgotten the last symptoms of the disease. Reflecting, however, he told himself that this was just the final confirmation of his healing: apart from a justifiable embarrassment he had felt no fear in making love with the boy, and in this moment he perceived his mind was free from any fright or concern and he wasn't scared about attacks of any kind. The monsters were gone forever.

«Yes, they're gone, sweetie. How could you be so sure? Am I wrong or are you believing yourself too infallible?» he asked in a provocative tone.

In response Jack moaned, tenderly hugging him and rubbing his cheek against his chest, and answered: «No, I understood it because you're finally warm and perfumed again!».

At these words the Boogeyman, puzzled, couldn't hold back a laugh; raising his head the boy exclaimed: «Why are you laughing? I was serious! You have always been very warm in comparison to me, it scared me so much feeling you'd become cold as ice, and then I hated the smell of the disease: it reminded me all the time that you were between life and death. Now you're back to normal, and you perfumes again: you have the same smell of the moss, did you know? And now you smell a little of foxglove, as always when we're together. Your smell is so good: I really like it, and I missed it».

Moved the man touched his cheek and whispered: «You have a good smell, too, Jack. You have the same scent of freshly fallen snow, and, when we're together, that fragrance is loaded with a spicy aroma which, at first, surprised me, but which actually suits you perfectly».

«Spicy? Like Christmas cookies?» asked Frost, curiously.

«Yes, you're my little cookie, Jack» replied Pitch, in a tone intentionally corny.

Hearing that nickname the boy laughed, closely followed by the other, but soon he turned serious and, resting his forearms on his chest to support himself better, he confessed: «I do not want to go away from here: I want to stay this way forever».

Thanking the fact he couldn't blush the Boogeyman accepted the indirect compliment and, trying to divert the conversation, he remarked: «Don't you think that North would have something to say if he found us here like this?».

A flash of fear crossed the Jack's crystal clear irises and he immediately commented: «Damn, I think that, in the best case, he would throw us outside in the snow like this, but in the worst... he could use us to fed his reindeer!».

Puzzled the man asked: «Why are you so scared by his reindeer? Are they carnivorous?».

«I would not be surprised to find out it's true! They're so terrible and frightening» said the boy in a frightened voice.

«Better not to disclose the mystery, don't you agree? We'd better sleep soon» suggested Pitch.

«No, I do not want to, this is probably the first and last time I've been on top!» burst out Frost with an annoyed tone and a well-known smile on his lips.

The Boogeyman stared at him, dumbfounded, and it took a few seconds to him to realize he'd been teased all the time; with an angry snort he turned his head and tried to pull away the partner, not giving in to the laughter which was spontaneously growing in his throat and pretending not to be amused by the joke, but then, as it was in his nature, he replied: «Maybe, since you've been a colt so good and so ardent, in the future I could allow you to be on top again».

«As you wish, perfect Pureblood» provoked him the boy; «You're amazed, aren't you? You would have never imagined I could be so deft».

«Do not commit the sin of conceit, Jack Frost!» good-naturedly warned him the man.

He had to admit it to himself, he had undoubtedly been amazed by that initiative, but not as much as the other imagined: he remembered well how Frost had seduced him the last time they met, he knew how Jack had always seemed to him naturally talented at provocative and sensual movements and, every time they had an intercourse, he had felt perfectly how and how much he was able to follow every thrust and actively participate in.

«Said the King of humility, huh, Pitch Black?» continued to taunt him the boy.

«Jack, seriously: you talk too much» concluded Pitch, pulling him close to himself.

With a little muffled moan Frost let himself go in a passionate kiss, readily reciprocating the hug and finally letting his love lead, allowing him to caress his tongue with his and playfully bite his swollen lips.

Feeling that his heart was throbbing wildly and his pants were now getting shorter and broken the Boogeyman pulled him away, breaking the languid union, but staying close to his mouth, and he enjoyed to the hilt that moment of intimate sharing, appreciating the other's proximity, the affection Jack showed to him, the desire he felt for him, and even his breath mixed with his own. He loved those moments of sweet and a bit sensual cuddles after an embrace, and he was willing to prolong them as much as possible, so he couldn't help but stiffen when he perceived the boy moving away and lever on his feet to stand up.

«No, Jack, wait: you'll get hurt in this way. Let me help you, I swear that I'll be gentle and you won't feel any pain» suggested the man in a gentle but firm tone.

As soon as he saw Jack blush and, then, nod, he slightly twisted his torso and turned around to rearrange the pillows: he threw them all in an open chest beside the bed, he plumped up the last one and put it on the mattress, then he laid back and silently asked the other to nestle on his chest, letting him resting his head between the collarbones and neck; he stroked his back for a long time, trying to relax his muscles and going down and down, reaching his thighs and gently making him open and stretch the right leg next to his own; finally, when he felt he was ready, he turned, keeping his left knee hooked to his waist and making him lie down beside him.

Finally gained a greater freedom of action he broke the hug and put his lips on the boy's jugular, sucking and nibbling it while brushing his skin with his fingertips, and only several minutes after he dared to move, pressing the right on his abdomen and slowly slipping out of him.

They sighed in unison, one for the lack of heat and the other for the empty feeling, both nostalgic of the union, but comforted by the partner's proximity, and, in order to dispel every doubt, Pitch asked: «Did I hurt you, sweetie?».

«No, you've been so delicate, Pitch: thank you» whispered Frost, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes already closed.

At that sight the Boogeyman smiled: seeing the boy struggling against fatigue and finally capitulate always touched him, and he adored watching him and cuddle him while he slept. However, there was a matter of the utmost importance to discuss about, a revelation that would have undoubtedly and fundamentally changed their relationship, and that it was no longer appropriate to procrastinate, so, albeit reluctantly, he wakened him up.

«Jack, are you still awake? I need to talk to you» whispered the man, gently shaking his shoulder.

Jack woke up with a groan, unwilling to abandon the world of dreams, but when he heard the Boogeyman repeating that sentence a second time he shuddered and, agitated, he asked: «What's up, Pitch? Do not you feel sick? Did you have a nightmare? Are the monsters back again? You look suffering, did I wound you before? Did I hurt you? Maybe you just wanted to sit quiet and I have forced you, I was an idiot, now you will think that I just want that from you and that I don't care about your welfare, I've been a fool, forgive me, I should have imagine that...».

«I love you» interrupted Pitch, stubbornly staring at the fire.

Appalled by that point-blank statement the boy fell silent, covering his mouth with his hands and almost stopping to breathe, but, just when the Boogeyman began to worry, he recovered, leaning on his right elbow and moving away slightly to look at him better.

The Boogeyman stubbornly continued to avoid the eye contact, making the pupils wander in every corner so as not to meet his partner's one; however, when he felt him put his fingers on his cheek, he realized he couldn't run away forever, so, trying not to shiver, he turned.

Frost 's eyes were wide open, to the point they completely show the irises in all their stunning beauty: the blue base seemed darker because of the uncertain light of the fire, but the specks which adorned them shone like snow in the moonlight, and created so many shade of cerulean, turquoise, cobalt and sapphire to make them look two gemstones of thousand faces. Only in one other occasion the man had been able to see them so clearly, and he would have remembered it for his whole life: it had happened after the battle against Behemuth, when he had collapsed into his love's arms before fainting; that time, however, the weakness had thrown an opaque veil on the scene, and his mind had given up, preventing him from appreciating the vision and making him perceive only the fear which showed through those eyes.

Enchanted by that tricks of light and shadows Pitch couldn't understand the emotions which were concealed behind them, and he barely heard the boy whisper: «Say it again».

After few failed attempts the Boogeyman managed to murmur hesitantly: «I love you».

«Again» insisted Jack.

Embarrassed beyond imagination the man went to the counter attack to defend himself and, settling better on the mattress, he snapped: «How many more times are you going to make me repeat that, huh?».

Holding back tears of joy the boy threw his arms around his neck and answered: «Until you have compensated all those times when you wanted to tell me that but, because of fear, shame or pride, you hold yourself back».

Moved Pitch hugged him tightly, feeling finally something melting inside himself and a load as heavy as a boulder disappearing from his heart, and he said: «Give me few weeks and I'll recover all the time».

Chuckling Frost stepped back a little and provoked him: «Only few weeks? Not few months or even few decades? My dear, shy love, if you need so much time to declare yourself an entire lifetime won't be enough!».

«What an insolence!» exclaimed the Boogeyman, biting his neck to punish him.

With an amused sigh the boy let him do it, then he confessed: «I was kidding, Pitch. You can not tell it to me ever again, if you don't feel to, but I don't want you to shut up only because you feel embarrassed: you should not, it's such a beautiful statement and there is nothing to be ashamed about. It was wonderful, for me, to hear you say that, you've taken a load off my heart and filled it with joy. Thank you, Pitch, thank you: I love you, too».

Moved, but still a bit embarrassed, the man smiled and, seeing that now the other had his head staggering and his eyes half closed, he concluded: «Come, sweetie, let's end it here: it's time to sleep».

Moaning weakly Jack crouched against his chest, moving his left knee to embrace a little better his waist with his leg and dozing almost instantly. Pitch, on the other hand, waited few more minutes: he wrapped his arms around his chest, making sure to make him feel protected without impede him breathing or causing him cramps, then he took the opportunity to cuddle him a little while he thought.

It was done, he'd done it, he had finally defeated his shyness and all the doubts, real and imposed by his role, which had gripped him, and he had declared his love to him. In hindsight, he had to admit that, after all, it had not been so difficult: it had been enough thinking about anything else and taking the plunge; furthermore, saying that sentence for the first time had helped him to overcome the block, and he was deeply convinced that he would have not hesitate so much to confess his love any more. He would have been able to repeat it, again and again, on all the occasions in which he had wanted to, and nothing and no one would have stopped him: the time of subterfuges, fears and deceptions was over.

Determined to implement immediately the decisions he had reached, and well aware that he was too tired to stay awake for long and develop coherent thoughts, the Boogeyman grabbed the sheets and carefully covered himself and his partner, but he didn't try in any way to shun his hug: he didn't care the Guardians could see them together, he didn't care about the disapprovals and the comments they could have made, he didn't care even they could understand they'd made love. They could talk about that how much they wanted, that didn't concern him at all: he just wanted to be close again and definitely to his little snowflake, and, if someone had tried to impede him, they would have had to deal with his anger; from this point of view, in fact, his feelings had not changed: Jack was his, his and his only, and no one could come between them.

Realizing now that his thoughts were becoming increasingly rambling Pitch gave Frost a little kiss under his ear, then whispered: «Sweet dreams, my love» and he fell into a peaceful sleep.

 

 

 

Two beautiful girls made two beautiful fanarts for this chapter! Here you can find the link, if you don't manage to see them just go on my tumblr blog (I wrote the url in my profile)

<http://tsunami-sand.tumblr.com/post/67393300520/some-blackice-1-today-i-wanted-to-train-to-draw>

 

<http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/329/2/b/untitled_by_heilyfly-d6vl5qj.jpg>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I told you I will publish the next chapter on Sunday, probably in the morning


	22. Chapter 22

 

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 22**

 

 

Pitch had no dream that night, but he just slip into that black oblivion which had usually accompanied him during the sleep hours for centuries. Rethinking about that a posteriori, he couldn't understand the reason: maybe because of the weakening due to the disease, maybe because of the tiredness, maybe because his mind had been stimulated so much, in the earlier days, it hadn't had the strength to develop any thought, or maybe simply because there was no need to dream. He had found his little snowflake, he had rejoined him and even declared his love: there couldn't be a utopia more beautiful than the reality he was experiencing.

After an indefinite period of time spent in a state of unconsciousness something intervened to disturb his rest: something which slightly pulled his arms and discreetly whispered in his ear, causing him to come back to himself far enough to get annoyed, but certainly not to wake up. Still nestled in the muffled darkness which had protected him, the Boogeyman moved back, curling up and muttering, but the background noise heightened, taking shape and volume to form a laugh and, therefore, distinguishable words.

“No, he will never let me go in this way” was the first thing he heard; “Pitch, we must get up” was the second one.

«Pitchie, it's time for your medicine!» trilled a shrill voice.

Waking with a start the man opened his eyes, but he almost didn't have time to realize he was still lying on the bed where he had been settled that Toothiana chirped: «Oh, Pitch, you're so cute! But you should let Jack breathe, don't you agree?».

Still groggy Pitch stretched his limbs to familiarize with his surroundings and he saw a ruffled head coming out from under the sheets and exclaiming: «Ah, finally! I love hugs, but I also like to breathe, you know? Come on, let me go: I have to prepare your medicine».

Suddenly worried the Boogeyman tried to hold him tightly and prevent him to show himself to the others naked, but under his fingertips clearly he felt the roughness of the fabric; when he looked down he noticed that the partner was wearing all his clothes, except for the laces which tightened his trousers, and he couldn't help but smile: he would have never believed that Jack would have had the foresight to get up and get dressed before him, to avoid embarrassing impressions in front of the Guardians.

Reassured by that he threw back the sheets enough to have more ease and lean on his left elbow, too tired to sit up, but immediately North went to his aid, rearranging the pillows against the bed's headboard and helping him to lay with his back against them.

Finally gained a comfortable and suited position the man looked around and opened wide his eyes, amazed by the scene he saw in front of himself: Toothiana was on his left, intent to tuck in the sheets and check his pulse and temperature; Sandy hovered few inches from his feet and, after creating a bowler hat with his magic sand, he took it off the head, as a sign of greeting; finally, Santa Claus continued to fluff up the pillows, mumbling something about a padding which should be filled up and closing the now empty chest. The Boogeyman remembered he had already received help from them, he remembered well their thoughtful care, but, until he had been weak and sick, he had not fully realized how much this was unnatural and he had accepted with greater ease; in this moment, however, the only two notes not jarring he could grasp were his love who was blending the medicine and Bunnymund who, sitting in front of the fire, ignored him and stroked his fur.

In the attempt to dispel the feeling of discomfort Pitch asked: «The medicine again? The wound has healed, continuing the treatment is not necessary at all and, moreover, I would risk to freeze up again».

«Oh, no, you don't need to worry about that! Jack thought it would be better to absorb the cold before giving you medicine: first of all it's easier, and then it eliminates any risk for you. Do not fear, drink, and woe to you if you refuse! We must be careful until the end, the wound is closed, but how is it inside? It healed or the tissues are still injured? Is there still a trace of infection? It's absolutely out of the question that you interrupt the treatment now» answered Toothiana.

«Finished! Take it, Pitch: drink it all the way, and take all the time you need» softly whispered the boy.

Narrowing his eyes to show he was annoyed by the two improvised nurses' insistence, the Boogeyman mumbled something unintelligible, but then he decided to grab the bowl which was offered to him and bring it to his mouth; remembering how much he had suffered because of the pack and, then, the infusion, he hesitated several seconds before he could find the courage, but finally he took a deep breath and began to drink.

Unlike the first time the medicine didn't burn his tongue, but it flowed pleasantly warm in the stomach, soothing the sting which tormented his throat since he had waken up and quenching his thirst; surprised by these unexpected beneficial effects the man sipped with renewed conviction, swallowing till the last drop and covering his mouth with his hand to cough, then he put the cup down on the night table and he heard Frost asking: «So, how was it? Do you feel cold, Pitch?».

«No, I only have few chills, but nothing like the last time: your idea worked» murmured Pitch, rubbing his palms on the triceps to warm them up.

At that response the fairy smiled, but soon her eyes turned sad, and those irises so brightly pink became opacified and got down, to stare at a fold in the sheet.

Dumbfounded in front of her reaction the Boogeyman couldn't help but mock: «What is it, little fairy, you're sad because the Boogeyman is still alive and will soon return to scare your beloved children?».

The woman sighed, then she confessed: «No, that's not the reason at all: indeed, it is precisely the opposite. Pitch, I know it's early, I know that you're still recovering and that you shouldn't push yourself too much, but we must ask you a thing: we need your Nightmares».

Immediately the man laughed and blurted out: «Why would you need them? To destroy them once and for all? As long as I am dying and in need of care you find me cute as a pet, but when I start to regain my powers you don't like me any more? You should have thought about that before, and leave me in the clearing to breath my last breath!».

«Oh, Pitch, please do not make me repeat that again! No one here hates you, so stop acting like an idiot and listen!» scolded him Jack.

«Pitch, we need your Nightmares for children: they have been without them four days now, you cannot miss your duties!» exclaimed North.

«My duties? And how can you be so certain that I have duties to fulfil? I was born far before you, and no one has ever explained me anything. I've never been helped by nor depended on anyone, I do what I want when I want, always, and I will continue to do so! Anyway, I don't think it's so dramatic, for those children who are on the threshold of adolescence, to remain childish for a week longer than expected» replied Pitch, annoyed.

«I agree with you, Pitch, but that's not your only task, nor the most important!» cried Toothiana in a broken tone.

Struck by the desperation with which she had talked, the Boogeyman turned and, seeing her on the verge of tears, he decided to keep quiet and wait for clarification. For her part, the fairy, as soon as she realized she had gained his attention, didn't wait any more and said: «Pitch, some children have an almost innate sense of responsibility, but the majority does not. Of course it's normal, when they are born they don't know anything, and we Guardians exist to make sure that, growing up, they learn as much as possible about positive feelings and their own talents, but this is not enough to train them: they must also learn to defend themselves from all the cruel things in the world and not get in trouble. Of course, their parents are there to teach them all this things, but you know that, unfortunately, not all adults properly take care of their children, and that some of those who do that have children who don't listen to them. You've met many of them during your expeditions, am I wrong? Children who believe they are already grown up, who think they have no need of anything or anyone, who bully the others to prove they are better and stronger than them, and who disobey the rules for the sheer fun of it. They behave like that in order to be in the centre of attention, to be seen and admired by all, and they do it without thinking about consequences, but unfortunately, sometimes, they realize they had gotten in trouble when no one can help them».

«You're not explaining yourself in clear words, fairy: my mind is much more confused than few minutes ago» snapped the man, annoyed and, at the same time, vaguely frightened by that speech so serious.

Sandman intervened in the conversation, shaping the sand over his head to form the figure of a young boy: at first he made him run, then beat up other children, not lower his head in front of a higher silhouette, who was moving the index in a sign of disapproval, and then leave, fleeing away in the hills until he reached a flat area; here the shape which had scolded him reappeared, standing at the edge of the level zone and intent to wave their arms about, but the boy turned away and started to jump on the spot. Just when Pitch was about to relax his furrowed brow and let out a laugh for the funny skit this changed: a chasm suddenly opened up under the child and swallowed him; hands reached out to grab him, but none could reach it; finally, the sand wavered and disappeared, leaving the viewer confused and shocked.

«What Sandy was trying to tell you» explained Jack; «It's something that happened just yesterday. A particularly rebellious child bullied his friends during a school trip, the teacher scolded him and, to be disrespectful, he ran away; shortly after he reached a frozen pond, the teacher got scared, recalled him and even begged him, promising she would have done nothing to him, if he had come back. Obviously, in order not to give her satisfaction, he didn't obey, hearing her saying the ice could have collapsed he jumped to provoke her and, of course, since it's almost spring, the sheet broke up almost immediately. It happened to him the same thing which had happened to me: he fell down and was engulfed by the freezing water. In his case, however, there was no Man in the Moon to save him: he died alone, panicked by a fear which, if only he had felt just few minutes earlier, would have prevented this tragedy».

At these words the Boogeyman groaned and put a hand on his heart: he had felt an unspeakable pain when he had heard the end of that story. Thanks to the nightmares he had had only few hours before he could partially understand what hat child could have felt, but the thing that surprised him most was the ease with which he had been able to identify himself with his parents: he had needed less than a second to guess what torment, what desperate disbelief, what feeling of inadequacy and failure had pervaded them. It must have been terrible, for them, to receive the sad news: their son, so difficult to handle and yet so loved, would have never return from a trip that should have only brightened his day. No more tantrums, no more fights, no more scoldings or punishments, no more jokes, no more laughters, no more satisfaction for his achievements or for the drawings made by him: only a small, white coffin in which bury all their hopes and joy.

Why, why had such thoughts crossed his mind? He didn't have a family, and he had never had it, so how could so thoroughly understand feelings so annihilating? Because he was sure, he was not making assumptions, or imagining the scene basing it on past expeditions during which, in addition to fear, he had collected also other feelings: he fully understood the situation, and he was so captivated he felt sick. Was it possible that, in a distant past, he hadn't been alone, and he didn't retain any memory? It was absurd, completely absurd, yet it seemed to him that he had lost not simply a child, but his own son, and a disappointing sense of failure had taken him, exactly as it was surely happened to the father.

No, it was not right, it was not right what had happened: he had never wanted it. Oh, sure, he loved scaring infants, tormenting their minds to send them into a panic and follow with his eyes their useless and pathetic runs to their parents' rooms, but he had never wanted to see them die! It was wrong, terribly wrong that a body so small and so hyperactive were pervaded by the torpidity of death and buried underground forever.

«Seeing all that was devastating, Pitch. We four had rushed there all together, me, Sandy, North and Bunnymund, because we had the feeling that something very bad was going to happen, and so it was. We tried to appease the child, distract him, show him all the beautiful things he could enjoy about the trip, his mates and himself, but he didn't believe in us, so he couldn't hear us. On the other hand, why should he? He had decided he wouldn't have been afraid of anything, and no Nightmare had come to scare him: he didn't need memories, hopes, dreams and or wonder to reassure himself, his swagger was enough» confessed Toothiana, her face streaked with tears.

«And the worst thing was that we were not able to save him even after: he didn't listen to us, so we decided to help him and get him out of water, but he did not believe in us, he could not see and not touch us, and we could not touch him, too. We tried several times, stretched out hands, paws, sand and even sabres, but we could not even feel the warmth of his skin, and the only thing we could do was watch him die» concluded North, his eyes downcast and his hands clasped in his lap.

Overwhelmed by the details of the incident Pitch dug his nails into the skin under his left shoulder, and, staring with eyes wide opened at his knees, he murmured: «I never wanted this... I've never killed a child, I've never wanted to do it and I didn't want him to die...».

Gentle hands rested on his face, making him turn around until his irises crossed the crystal clear ones of his love; still groggy he lost himself in all their shades, noticing the layer of concern which opacified them only in the end, then he let the boy hug him and he heard him whisper: «I'm sorry, Pitch. We didn't want to upset you, especially after all you've been through, but I'm sure you understand that it was necessary to tell you this fact. It was a horrible episode and, unfortunately, not the only one, but there is still time: there are so many children in the world, and you have no idea how many are already in danger! Infants of these days are different from those of the past, they have much less fear of their parents, and they often disobey: help us to give them at least the minimal sense of responsibility necessary to keep them out of trouble. We do our best, but we can act only on those who believe in us, and, trust me, unfortunately, they are less and less: too many forget us, thinking we're useless, just before risking their lives».

Still upset the Boogeyman was about to return the hug, but, pulling himself together just in time, he stopped: he didn't want to show himself weak in front of the Guardians.

Regaining almost all his self-control he pulled Frost away and said in a firm voice: «I will try to create Nightmares, but I don't know if and how many I can evoke. Moreover, they will be newly born, so small, not completely efficient and self-sufficient, and I have no idea how long they'll manage to last: it would be enough, for them, to run into a child determined not to be disheartened by bad dreams to be dissolved and disappear».

«Newborn Nightmares are small? Are you serious? How is that possible? I saw you evoke stallions with a single snap of your fingers!» asked Toothiana.

«When you saw me I was in full owning of my powers, and I did nothing but calling Nightmares which I had already raised up to become Thoroughbred» explained the Boogeyman, deeply uncomfortable in having to explain tricks and secrets which he had jealously guarded for centuries.

«Wait, Pitch, I remember what you told me about Nightmares: if they attack weak victims, they gain enough strength to attack anyone and, when they make a child believe in you, they become Thoroughbred, is not so?» interjected Jack.

«Oh, sure, go on, Jack, reveal every secret of my powers, of course the Guardians could never use this information against me, huh?» snapped the man, piqued.

«Things are getting better and better, now you not only hang out with the Boogeyman, but you also learn how to control Nightmares!» exclaimed Bunnymund, indignant, crossing his arms.

«Cut it out, both of you! What I meant is that, if that is the case, it's sufficient that each of us accompanies the Nightmares to the children and makes them attack the weaker ones, so as not to risk they disappear and help them become stronger and stronger; once they have reached the size of a dog will already be quite self-sufficient, is not it? At that point we could check them, from afar and, when they would have become Thoroughbred, leave them free to do their duty, because they should run into a particularly brave child to die, am I wrong?» suggested the boy.

«No, you're not wrong» said the man, intrigued and amazed by his partner's brilliant idea.

«You're kidding, right? For centuries we have fought against the Boogeyman, and now we should reduce ourselves to be the nurses of his Nightmares? That's inconceivable! We have already made a big mistake when we saved him, we should not help him any longer! He can take care of himself on his own!» bursted out the Pooka, angrily throwing a log in the fire.

«Bunnymund! I can not believe you're so selfish! Since no topic seems to be important enough for you, tell me, if I asked you to close the roof of the North's observatory, would you be able to do it? Oh, no, it is useless, for you, continuing to nod, I noticed that, recently, you can't jump as easily as in the past! You couldn't even reach the Globe! If you really cannot feel sorry for the children who have died and will die, take care, at least, of yourself, and help us in order to regain your powers!» scolded him Toothiana.

«But what are you talking about, it's obvious that I feel sorry for those children and I would do anything to save those who are going to end up like that! I do care about children! And that's why I do not want to help Pitch: he does not care about them at all!» defended himself the Easter Bunny.

«I'm sorry, but helping children coincides with helping Pitch, so you'll have to comply» shushed him the fairy.

Bunnymund stared at her in disbelief, but, seeing her resolute gaze, he gave up; muttering to himself he turned to the fire and began to stir the embers with an iron to stoke up the flames.

Slightly embarrassed by the outburst he had heard, but sure that no more protests would have occurred, Pitch settled back on the pillows and opened his hands, placing them at the chest level and with the palm upward, as if to give something to an imaginary interlocutor, then he concentrated: the muscles twitched and slightly trembled with the effort, and he plunged into despair when he realized that, although he had tried for several seconds, he had not achieved any results, but, just when he was sure he would have never managed to, a creature materialized on his palms.

Excited he opened his eyes, which he had involuntarily closed, but, instead of a Nightmare bristling with spikes, he found himself in front of the rabbit which Jack had given him.

The boy couldn't help but let out a small laugh and the Boogeyman, piqued by the failure, disappointed by his own weakness and seized by an unspeakable shame, blurted out: «Do not laugh, fool, it's all your fault!».

«Oh, what a cutie! It's the same rabbit of the clearing, right? How did you call him?» tenderly asked Toothiana.

«Pain In The Neck, this is its name! And you, stop laughing and playing with that stupid and intrusive fur ball! Bring it here, so I will finally manage to make it disappear and close this idiot break!» shouted the man, turning to Frost.

Holding back the laughter, the boy freed the rabbit he had moved close to his chest and he suggested: «Wait, do not reabsorb it: you'll waste a lot of energy trying not to call it again while you evoke Nightmares. Let me free my hare: they'll play together without bothering anyone, and you could concentrate without distractions».

Without waiting for the approval he stretched out his left hand and, with a fluid motion, he evoked his creature: this, followed by a trail of brilliant crystals and swirling snowflakes, burst into the room, standing proud in front of the astonished spectators, but his whole hieratic solemnity was soon tarnished. Its mate, in fact, immediately lunged at it, tickling it with its nose to shake it and invite it to play, and, albeit initially annoyed, the hare finally gave up, leaping between the legs of the Guardians in pursuit of the other.

«Since when do you evoke hares?» asked North, intrigued and amused.

«Now don't you start, too! As I said a moment ago, and as it should now be clear to all of you, it's Jack's fault, so blame him! Now stop bothering me and let me concentrate!» sharply concluded Pitch.

Finally obtained silence he could get back in position and try again to control his powers, but, after few seconds, he realized it was all vain: he didn't manage to and, considered that he felt absolutely nothing, he would have never succeeded.

Puffing frustrated he confessed: «It's useless, I can't: I still have not regained enough power to evoke Nightmares».

«Oh, Pitch, we really didn't need this! Can we do something? Do you want the medicine again, or something to eat or drink? Do you want to sleep few hours and then try again?» consoled him the fairy.

«No, I do not think it would change the situation and, however, I certainly would not be able to sleep in these conditions. Damn! The problem is that I don't manage to summon the base material: the sand is hard to create, I learned it only recently, but, in general, I've always found much easier corrupting Sandman's one and reshape it to my liking» admitted the Boogeyman, without even realizing he was revealing truths that, only few hours before, he would have jealously guarded, at all costs.

While he sighed, sad and angry with himself, a ribbon of golden unrolled itself in front of his eyes, and, with a serious and determined gaze, Sandy looked at him and then nodded.

Incredulous for such a gift for the man stared at him, amazed, almost frightened by the sudden connection that had been born between himself and his arch-enemy, and he couldn't do anything; after a minute, however, the other turned his expression from resolute to exasperate and Pitch knew it was time to set aside all resentments and roll up his sleeves, so, coughing a little to dispel the embarrassment, he acted.

Soothed the tremors due to the fear of burning his hands, he sank them into the sand and, in front of his eyes wide open, this turned into a fine black powder, ready to be shaped according to his will and bring fear and darkness in the world.

Baring his teeth in a satisfied grin the Boogeyman wasted no time, grabbing a handful of that magic matter, he modelled it as best as he could; as soon as he had finished he immediately began to shape a second creature, moving quickly his phalanges not to miss a useful moment, and so on, until there was no more grain of sand available.

Panting from the effort he raised his head and faced four Nightmares, small but perfectly formed, staring at him with an aggressive attitude, but also a bit disoriented; inevitably a proud smile rose on his lips: despite the weakness and the side effects of the medicine he had managed to achieve a satisfactory result, and he could only rejoice for this.

Soon, however, the dark happiness ended, because Toothiana, amazed by those animals she had never seen in her life, stretched out his right hand to touch one of them and said: «Oh, Pitch, these little Nightmares are so strange! We have not really seen them before! When they are this size they're not scary, indeed, they are really cute!».

As soon as she touched it with her fingertips the sand returned to shine in golden glow, and sparkling and thin tentacles departed from that point to the rest of the body of the stallion in miniature, making him whinny with fear and pain and spreading like a cancer.

Terrified, the man grabbed his servant with both hands, holding it to his chest and caressing him with the palms to remove all traces of light from it, then he raised his face and exclaimed in an angry and upset voice: «Toothiana, are you crazy!? These are not cuddly puppies, they are Nightmares! They must be treated with respect! If you approach them as you would do with a pet you will make them dissolve!».

«Oh, for all the teeth, I'm sorry!» sheepishly apologized the fairy; «I didn't think about that! It's just that I wasn't able to resist... but, I swear, when we will bring them to the children I will be most careful and not touch them».

«You're not going to bring them anywhere, overgrown canary: you're too curious and intrusive to perform such a task» snapped Pitch, protectively recalling all the other Nightmares around himself.

«Oh, Pitch, come on, do not exaggerate! I told you I'll be careful, and I will. You can't forbid me to shepherd your Nightmares, otherwise who will send them to the children more suitable to be scared?» explained the woman, trying to reason with him.

«Actually it's better if you stay here, Tooth: someone should check Pitch. Just think, if, all of a sudden, the side effects of the medicine appear again, or if the infection is still spreading, what could he do? You are the best suited person for this task and, however, there are only four Nightmares: each of us will take one and we will manage to control them all» said Jack.

«Four? Only four? Pitch, cannot you create more Nightmares?» asked North in disbelief.

Stung the Boogeyman immediately raised his back and tried to get back to work, ready even to faint just to not admit how much he had been worn out by what he had done a little earlier, but Jack interjected and declared: «It is absolutely not necessary, for him, to push himself too much: he recovered, but he could have a relapse at any moment. It's better if he conserves his energy and create new nightmares once the first ones would become Pureblood. We need to make sure that he remains quite strong and authoritative to rule them, and, moreover, looking after more than one would be difficult: Pitch had a good idea to make only four, and then, if you look close, they are almost perfect».

At those words, the man smugly stared at Santa Claus, as if to imply that creating only four Nightmares had been his plan from the beginning, but, when she saw him nod and turn around to start the preparations, he looked at his love and winked.

He regretted a little having invented a thanks so superficial and perfunctory: actually he was deeply grateful to him for that sly idea, who had avoided him to admit his powerlessness, for more in front of those he had fought for centuries, but it was not in his nature show too much the affection he felt, and, of course, he would never have dared to risk to be seen in a touched attitude by other viewers except for Frost.

Soon, however, he realized that he didn't need to express himself in a more explicit way: the boy, in fact, blushed when he saw him and smiled back, showing that he had immediately understood his feelings and that he had appreciated the "thank you" that his secretive and a bit gruff nature had prevented him from even to whisper, but that his heart was screaming loudly.

Reassured Pitch lowered his guard and he almost had to cover his ears with his hands when he heard a deep voice, by now so familiar, booming: «Very well! Are you ready for new mission?».

Albeit annoyed by the noisy entrance, the Boogeyman had to admit it to himself: North was truly magnificent. He was not the old funny chap described in the tales which were handed down from generation to generation: he had, yes, a thick, white beard, a considerable bulk and a gentle soul, but there were other details which came immediately evident. The heavy coat which covered him emphasized his solemn majesty, the black fur hat made him look serious and almost dangerous, his irises shone not only with wonder, but also with pride and determination, and the unsheathed sabres openly showed his warlike nature: he was a character with many faces, and very few of them had a comforting aspect; moreover, in this moment he was against the light, so the natural shadows on his body were sharper and darker than usual, making his figure, if possible, even more frightening.

Pleasantly surprised by having found a dark side in a creature that was supposed to inspire trust in the children, the man grinned smugly and Santa Claus immediately commented: «Do not be too excited, Pitch, we do it just for children! If you overdo again with nightmares, we will not hesitate to fight you!».

«Oh, I never doubted it» replied Pitch, sneering.

Few seconds later Jack, who had taken advantage of that brief conversation to tie the laces around his calves, stepped forward and declared: «I'm ready! Sandy, how are you going to guide the Nightmare without making it dissolve? If you touch it, you will transform it back into a beautiful dream».

Sandy made promptly appear in his right hand a short whip and he cracked it several times in the air, aiming at a decorative wood statue and always managing to stop few inches before hitting it.

Amazed by his ability, but deeply sceptical, the Boogeyman hissed: «Little Cowboy, your performance may fit for a rodeo, not for my Nightmares: just dare to make him a scratch, even only by accident, and I will destroy you, exactly like I did less than a year ago».

Sighing, half amused and half exasperated, the Bringer of Dreams hovered in the air, stopping few inches from his face and giving him some little pats on the head to reassure him, but the man pushed him away and quickly blurted out: «Make sure to be careful, not to appease me! My threat was serious!».

Holding back a laugh Toothiana turned and asked: «Bunnymund, are you ready?».

The Pooka, who had continued to fiddle with the embers since he had stopped talking, stoked the fire one last time, then he stood up and angrily said: «I still think that helping Pitch is a bad idea, but I'm alone against you four, so I can't oppose. I will escort that hideous Nightmare to the children and I will help it to grow, but it will be the first and last time I will do such a thing and, if something goes wrong, I will reserve the right to tell you that I warned you!».

«Oh, well, Bunnymund, it is not necessary for you to go: I can go instead of you and you will remain here to guard Pitch, if you prefer» casually suggested the fairy.

«Give me the Nightmare and let's get it over with this stupid situation!» cried Bunnymund, with the ears lowered in an aggressive behaviour, but with a trembling voice which showed how much the second option had horrified him.

Without further ado Pitch whispered some strict orders in the ears of his small creatures, then he send them towards their temporary guardian; each of them reacted differently: North stopped his one with the flat of his right sabre, full of wonder for its complex structure, but still wary; Sandman stepped back a little to avoid it, staring at it and concentrating to prevent himself to accidentally touch it; the Pooka completely ignored it, on his muzzle an annoyed expression and looking elsewhere; Jack, instead, stretched out his left hand, waiting patiently that the Nightmare sniffed him and then lightly stroked it with his palm.

At that gesture the man smiled, proud and a little wickedly satisfied: the boy had shown to have the courage of a lion with that action, but also very skill. The Nightmare, in fact, not only had not turned into golden sand, but had also reacted positively to the caress, brushing up at his fingers and showing itself docile: this meant that Frost had approached it without fear, but with respect, and that he had been able to maintain an attitude languid enough to tempt him, but also enough authoritative to constraint it. It was obvious by now, the boy would have become a perfect Prince of Darkness, if only he had consented to pass to his side; however, after all, Jack was good for him even like this: stubborn, playful, spontaneous, tenderly loving and innocent, but also a little mischievous and obscure. The perfect blend to lure the Boogeyman and sweeten those traits of his personality too pronounced.

Seeing him pleased Jack stuck out his tongue, in order to respond in a teasing way to his silent appreciation, then he stepped up to reach him and he bent over him.

Pitch would have wished with all his heart to feel those thin but soft lips on his ones, or even just on his forehead, in a fleeting farewell kiss, but there were four spectators too many for his liking, so, without hesitation, he turned his face to avoid him and blurted out: «One more simper and I myself will dissolve into gold dust!».

Pouting the boy gave up and returned with his back straight, then he commented: «You're always the same grumpy man! Oh, well, it doesn't matter: I've already given you a kiss in front of everyone while you were unconscious».

«What?» exclaimed the Boogeyman, fuming.

«Come on, come on, let's not waste any more time: ready to go! Quarrels are postponed when we return! See you later!» boomed North, walking towards the door.

Still sceptical, Bunnymund went after him, and Jack and Sandy followed him closely, waving their hands and quickly disappearing from sight.

Toothiana continued to give advice and wish them good luck, even after the sound their feet faded into the distance, but, when it was clear they had already left, she noticed a pair of topaz eyes staring at her, narrowed and clearly desirous to strike her dead right there, so, with an embarrassed chuckle, she apologized and shut up.

Obtained finally the silence the man sighed and collapsed on the plumped pillows: that conversation had literally worn him out. In the last weeks, spent with Frost, he had spoken probably more than during the rest of his entire life, and he had learned to relax a bit and get captivated by the speech, but this was due to the fact that he felt completely comfortable with the boy and that, knowing his character, he always knew how to talk with him with appropriate words and tone. Handling four different interlocutors, instead, each with their own personality, a characteristic way of doing and different natures and ideas, and adding to that the fact that, for centuries, those four had been his most hated enemies, had turned the meeting of few minutes before into a feat so complex to make his first conversation with Toothiana pale in comparison: indeed, if, at that time, he had felt swamped by her words, this time he had been completely drowned.

While he was massaging his temples to recover and, at the same time, relax a bit, he heard the improvised nurse asking: «How are you, Pitch?».

Too tired to be gruff and well aware that he owes her one, Pitch confessed: «Do you want me to be sincere? I feel exhausted».

«Night time rides are tiring, aren't they?» asked the fairy.

Dumbfounded by that sentence apparently senseless the Boogeyman turned to his interlocutor, but, as soon as she saw her sly expression, its meaning was even too clear for him.

A myriad of emotions passed through him in an instant: disbelief for the declaration, embarrassment because he had been found out, fear for the possible reproach, anger at the idea he had been spotted, but also tenderness at the memory of the intercourse, and many other sensations which, too captured by the situation, he was not able to identify. He couldn't decide whether burying himself under the sheets in shame, trying to strangle the woman or ignore her, but, after about ten seconds, he opted for an accusing: «I can't believe you've peeked at us!».

Toothiana bashfully flushed and countered: «Don't be silly, I have not peeked at you! I would have never done such a thing!».

«Oh, yes, sure!» continued the man; «When you came to talk to me in the clearing, less than a week ago, you were not peeking at us, right? You were just nosing around! And I bet you've watched us several times!».

«Do not revive the topic, you know that I made sure to come in the clearing only when Jack was already asleep and that, as soon as we finished talking, I left. About other times, well, if you love to give Jack breathtaking farewell kisses on the backdrop of a moonlit, a sunrise or a sunset you certainly cannot pretend not to be seen! Sometimes I saw you, but I have always watched you just for few seconds and then left you alone» said the fairy.

«I always knew that I should have looked out for you, but I never suspected you were a voyeur! If you have not peeked at us, how did you come to your conclusion?» suspiciously asked Pitch.

«Actually it has been easy: first of all, as soon as I came in this morning, I noticed that the handle was very cold and the door wet, as if they had been covered with frost that had just melted. Both Jack's laces were closer to the fireplace than to the bed, which is quite strange: he knows he should stay away from fire, and then, if he just wanted to sleep with with you, he would have had no reason to go and prepare himself so far from you. When he got up this morning, his shirt was not creased, as if he had worn it only few minutes before, and, while we were discussing, he has been massaging several times his back's base, thinking nobody was watching him; the detail that gave me the final confirmation, however, was the bite on your shoulder: we all knew that you had it since we brought you here and took care of you, but I had noticed that, thanks to the medicine, he had healed» simply clarified the Guardian.

Stunned by such a perceptiveness, the Boogeyman couldn't help but stare at her, unable to advance a criticism or a protest in front of an explanation so comprehensive and exemplary, but, in order not to give her any satisfaction, he muttered: «But your work is collecting teeth or clues? Anyway, I don't care about your complaints: Jack and I do what we want when we want».

Toothiana laughed and replied: «I am the Guardian of Memory, it is normal, for me, paying attention to all these revealing details! However, I never complained and, do not worry, I will not say anything to anyone: you and Jack are free to do whatever you want».

The man let out an involuntary sigh of relief, but he bore a disappointed grudge against her, to hide the little embarrassment he still felt: he would have never give in to her, for any reason. However, when he felt her slender fingers gently resting on his arm, he didn't dare to drive them away: their touch was so sweet and delicate and he owed them so much that dodge them would have been only a rough ingratitude.

Mild like he had been during his illness, he allowed them to touch his limb in a gentle caress, press on the carotid artery to count the throbs and, then, rest on the forehead, to check the temperature, and for all that time he did nothing but stare at his improvised nurse, in his eyes a touched and a bit scared expression and in his heart an endless joy for her understanding. He could deny as much as he wanted, but it was completely useless: the fairy knew exactly how to make him feel at home. Sure, she had floored him several times with her malicious insinuations and overwhelmed him with her relentless chattiness, but, in the end, she had always known what right chords to touch in order to put him at ease, and how to cuddle him, both physically and verbally, to reassure him and make him understand he was well-liked; it was for this reason that, for the first time in his life, fully conscious of himself and determined to set aside any doubts about possible deceptions, Pitch listened to those silent messages and saw the other as a precious friend.

«You know» whispered the Guardian, interrupting his thoughts; «The pulse is regular and your temperature has returned normal: after all the idea you and Jack had last night was not so bad».

The Boogeyman let out an amused chuckle and commented: «See? If there a thing that Jack has perfectly taught me is that it's always good to have fun. I hope his back doesn't hurt too much: usually I massage it as soon as he wake up and I help him to get up, but today you had the bright idea to come here together and nose around, so I could not. About Jack, can you tell me why wasn't he wearing his blue hoodie?».

«When you fell after the battle Jack dragged you to us and, in doing so, the hoodie was completely stained with blood, but he never wanted to take it off or wash himself: you know how stubborn he is, he didn't want to waste time, or risk that you died or woke up while he was intent to make such a stupid thing like having a bath. I almost managed to convince him when you woke up the second time, but then you've got worse again, and he has never forgiven himself for the fact he was not at your side: he rushed here in a fury, he worked for hours to absorb the cold and only when you have been clearly out of danger he decided to listen to me, but in his own way. He took out the hoodie, threw it to Phil and asked him to fix it while he was guarding you, then he never cared about it any more. We had to wash it several times to remove the blood, and now it's finally hung out to dry, but I am afraid it is beyond salvage: when he went to the Himalayas for the first time he almost tore it apart» explained Toothiana.

«Typical of Jack» commented the man, with a grimace of disapproval but a softened tone; «When he runs away with something there's no way to change his mind: I bet that he tore the hoodie in the rush to find the absinthe and get back here as soon as possible, and that he didn't sleep even for a minute until I was life and death struggling».

«Actually, this is what happened» admitted the fairy.

«I knew it: last night he tried not to show it, but I clearly saw how tired he was» murmured Pitch, feeling guilty for Behemuth's evocation.

The Guardian smiled and said: «I am sure that, if you had been in place of him, you would have done worse thing than staying awake too much, am I wrong? Now, however, don't do his same mistake: creating those Nightmares wore you out, lie down and rest, at least, a little».

Trusting in the advices of his nurse, as unconventional as thoughtful, the Boogeyman nodded and, putting in the chest the pillows which supported his back, he laid down on his side and closed his eyes; he took few seconds to find the perfect position and, when he did, he managed to murmur: «If you want to rest, too, Toothiana, you can: I'm fine, you don't have to attend to me».

«Don't worry, Pitch, I'm not tired: rest quietly and, if you need something, just ask me. Sweet dreams» whispered Toothiana.

Making a sarcastic grin the man curled a little, trying to replicate to that unintentional irony, but a thought as out of context as, for him, reassuring flashed through his mind: if the fairy had not peeked at them the previous evening, she had not seen Jack guiding him in the embrace and, therefore, she would never have imagined that he had been on top.

Finally dispelled any fears about that, and made sure that the only, small exception to his natural dominating character would have never been discovered, Pitch relaxed completely and, after few minutes, he fell asleep, slipping into the land of dreams and finally resting his worn limbs.

 

 

When she was certain Pitch had fallen asleep, Toothiana let out a small chuckle: the other had behaved exactly as she expected. Awkward, embarrassed, unable to communicate openly and constantly on guard, at first he had restrained himself to get smart and attack her, as the Boogeyman, but, rather than annoying or frightening her, he had only inspired a great tenderness in her: he acted like a gruff person for the role imposed on him and the loneliness which had accompanied him through the centuries, not out of malice. She had immediately seen the good which harboured in his heart, choked by the tentacles of darkness, but still alive and pulsating, and, ignoring his poisonous words, she had done everything she could to defuse, captivate him in the speech and then make him feel comfortable, and, in the end, she had been successful.

The look of silent thanks she had received when she had cuddled him a bit had been priceless: in his eyes she had seen a new spark, a soul a bit lost and loving as much as in need of love and understanding, and she had not been able to refrain herself from giving him a little. Of course she would have never interfered in the relationship between him and Jack: she knew how they complemented each other and she didn't want to separate them, but she sensed that the man needed more. All Frost's love would have never been enough to make him feel welcome in the world, nor to shake off his mind the idea that his only task was scourging it: for this he needed also a friend, and she felt enough affection towards him to have the patience and the ability to be so.

Pleased by the fact she had finally found way into his aura of darkness in which Pitch used to cloak himself, the fairy smiled, but soon after he let out a resounding yawn: she had slept only few hours from the battle up to that moment, and the constant treatments she had had to give had definitely weakened her.

Unable to endure more the Guardian decided to follow his unruly patient's advice and, arranging the pillows on the floor to create a soft bed, she laid down, putting her crossed arms on the mattress and resting his head on them, in order to hear the Boogeyman's breath and figure out if he needed assistance. After few seconds she felt something brushing against her neck and she nearly screamed in fright, but, when she turned, she saw that it was only the man's hand.

Reassured and moved she allowed him to intertwine his fingers through her feathers and softly grasp them, then she settled back as best as she could and she closed her eyes.

Just before he dozed off, however, a mischievous thought crossed her mind: «I bet that Pitch, last night, was so tired that he allowed Jack to stay on top».

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be published on Wednesday evening (Italian time zone). Feel free to leave me a comment, if you want to: I always love to talk with my readers and receive opinions. Have a nice day ^^


	23. Chapter 23

 

 

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 23**

 

 

 

Barely holding back a sneeze Pitch started and opened his eyes. He had never woken up so groggy in his entire life, not even after the Nightmares caused by Behemuth: confused and senseless dreams had disturbed him while he had been sleeping, cramps had occasionally tormented him, and something undefined and annoying had been teasing him all the time, finally managing to wrest him from his rest. As soon as he looked down to find the source of such a boredom, however, he burst out in a puff half exasperated and half hilarious: Toothiana had rested her head on the bed, right next to him, and, with her feathers, she had tickled his nose all the time.

Intimately amused by the situation, but made partially wary by such an intrusiveness, the Boogeyman stepped back a little and then blurted out: «Hey, overgrown canary, have you finished to spread your feathers like a peacock under my nose?».

Yawning soundly the woman stirred a little, stretching out her arms until her fingers brushed his abs, then she looked up and muttered with a thick voice: «What's going on? Are you feeling sick?».

«No, I'm fine» explained the man, while he settled the pillows against the headboard again; «The problem is this: you take too many liberties. Why are you lying here next to me, when there is a comfortable armchair on which you could have rested? You occupied my space and you tickled me so much with your fluffy feathers that you woke me up!».

«What a demanding man you are!» said the fairy, rubbing her eyes to dispel her tiredness; «I've been medicating you, taking care of you and guarded you, I deserved few hours of peaceful sleep! I laid here beside you in order to better supervise you: I was afraid that you could feel sick while you were sleeping. You are really touchy, you know? Be sure you don't risk any aggression from me: I know you're Jack's, and I would never dare to make advances to you, so relax down».

Stung by the rebuke Pitch didn't give up and insisted: «I am grateful for your treatments, but this does not entitle you to do what you want with me! I'm not Jack: I'm not your best friend».

At that sentence the Guardian placed her right hand on her forehead and shook her head, as if to show her disbelief and encourage herself to have patience, then she stared at him with a serious expression and said: «Pitch, seriously: you're unbelievable. I'm fine with the fact you are shy and reserved, I'm also fine also with the fact you're still a bit suspicious and that, however, you prefer to stay on your own and not to show too much affection or kindness, but, for all the teeth, stop being such a Boogeyman! I'm not a little girl to frighten, fortunately for you. I know you can have positive feelings positive, I know you don't see me only as one of your enemy, so cut it out and, at least when we're alone, behave naturally and do not always be on your guard. I'm not here to hit you below the belt».

Feeling stripped of his defences the Boogeyman exclaimed: «Oh, sure, you're something more than an enemy: you're a canary overgrown and too curious! I will never lower my guard, not even in your wildest dreams».

At that gallant defence Toothiana burst into a merry laughter and teased him: «Oh, yes, that's right! I have to wait until you dream to see you behave in a civilized manner: actually, as soon as you closed your eyes, you started to stroke my feathers with a sweetness worthy of a mother».

That revelation was a real wet blanket for the man: since, in the middle of the discussion, he had noticed he had a small green feather stuck between the ring and the little fingers, he had started to fear he had touched the fairy during the sleep, but he would have never imagined he had even petted her. He knew that a sleeper's movements were unconscious and difficult to control, to the point that they could be in stark contrast to their usual behaviour, but he was embarrassed by the fact he had allowed himself be so tender: probably he had stroked the plumage by pure chance, but if, instead of shunning the touch, he had sunk his fingers in the feathers, he should have found it pleasant, and this evidence was impossible to deny.

Stubborn till the end he muttered: «It doesn't matter: I was sleeping and no one else was here with us».

«You're the usual grumpy man!» exclaimed the Guardian with a smile, then she continued: «Come on, let me check you: I want to be sure you recovered well».

Trying to digest the defeat Pitch sat up and, draping the sheet to cover himself from the waist down, he turned to his interlocutor; despite the occasional chills which crossed him he never protested: he let her comparing his temperature with her forehead's one, count his heart's throbs, listening to them both by pressing her finger on the jugular and by placing her ear on his chest, and check that the wound had healed perfectly and that no new infection had occurred; doing violence to himself in order not to reply acidly, he obediently answered to every request and demand, and he didn't push her away even when she came closer to observe the bite left him by Jack.

Certain that the worst was over the Boogeyman relaxed and was about to lie down on the pillows, but the feathered nurse exclaimed: «Wait, Pitch, you are forgetting the most important thing: I have to check your teeth!».

Dumbfounded the man frowned his forehead and asked: «My teeth? Why should you check my teeth? Behemuth didn't hurt my mouth, and I have either eat nor drink anything for centuries».

«Are you kidding me, aren't you?» burst out Toothiana in a disapproving tone; «Teeth should be checked and cleaned every day, even if you are not ingested anything, and, however, you drank the medicine twice! What if you got a cavity? I absolutely have to check them!».

Broken back Pitch didn't know what to say and, without even realizing it, he parted a little his lips to show the teeth, but he regretted it immediately: the fairy, in fact, reacted so blatantly to make him jump with fright.

«For all my fairies, Pitch, your teeth are scary! They're almost as grey as your skin, and all broken!» cried the other, shocked.

Incredulous for the turn the situation had taken, the Boogeyman tried to keep calm and explained: «Toothiana, do not be ridiculous! First of all I'm able to hear, so it is not necessary, for you, to shout; in the second place, however, no matter if you like it or not, I'm the Boogeyman: I have to instill terror, so it's only natural that I'm scary in my every characteristic. Everything you see is not result of negligence: the natural colour of my teeth is grey, not white, and they are not broken, but simply very sharp and asymmetric, so calm down. If it reassures you, just know that I take care of myself, and check often that my teeth are clean and healthy, even though there is not the slightest need».

Holding her chin between thumb and forefinger with a suspicious look the Guardian asked: «Are you sure? Aren't you lying to me just to appease me? I can easily discover if you tell the truth or a lie! Indeed, I'll check immediately!».

With a catlike reaction she lunged at him and, without ceremony, she insinuated her fingers between his lips and opened them, in order to observe the inside of the mouth; the attacked, for his part, was so astonished that he couldn't help but fall back on the pillows behind him and undergo the unwanted dental examination.

Not intimidated at all Toothiana flew and moved closer to his teeth, to get a better view; ignoring the moans and the attempts to escape she held firmly the patient, looking at him with a thoughtful gaze, then she said: «Well, well, well, what a strange teeth you have! Actually I don't see traces of caries, plaque or other: you keep them really clean, so their natural colour must be grey, but I find it absurd! I've never seen teeth like these before, and then they're also irregular: they're all different, and they are so sharp that I must be careful in order not to cut myself. How do you move when you're with Jack? I bet you have to be very careful not to hurt him! And what does he think about your teeth? You know, at first I found them horrible, but now that I look at them closely I have to admit that they have something fascinating: they have a streamlined shape, each of them blend well with the others and all together with your figure, and then the incisors are...».

«Tooth! Fingers out of mouth!» boomed a deep and well known voice.

Caught by surprise the fairy swerved away, hiding her hands behind her back and bending her lips into a broad smile, as if to cover up what she had done, and Pitch was finally able to move freely again; coughing a bit, to shake off the tickling sensation given by the feathers on his palate, and sitting up, he turned to North and clarified: «I've not bitten her just because she's a woman, of course. I guess she behave like that with everyone, doesn't she?».

«No! What are you talking about? I don't always think about teeth! Rather, how was your expedition, North?» cheerfully tergiversated the woman.

Hearing her changing the subject so passionately, the Boogeyman decided not to protest further; considered the expression Santa Clause had sent him it seemed obvious that such a thing had happened many times before, so there was no reason to take umbrage or feel embarrassed: after all, there were no nonviolent defences he could have set up to contain such an enthusiasm!

Amused by the turn the situation had got he allowed himself few seconds to look at the two characters: the first one, still fully dressed, was standing proudly in the middle of the room and, shaking the index finger in disapproval, loudly rebuking the other; the second one, hovering few yards from the ground to compensate for the height difference, was justifying herself in any way she could, waving her arms and ruffling her feathers to add emphasis to each word.

The show went on for a full minute, but, just when the man was about to give up and burst into a laughter, something stopped him: with great surprise he saw the wooden planks few steps far from the master of the house collapsing and Bunnymund leaping out from the circular hole formed right there, grumpy and numb.

«North, where do you keep the firewood? The fire is almost out, and I'm dying of cold» muttered the Pooka without even saying good morning.

«Firewood is located behind the awning, next to the fireplace! So, how did it go? "asked North, taking off the coat and the fur hat to help him.

The Easter Bunny ignored the question, mumbling as he grabbed some logs and tried to stoke the fire; he worked for a long time, until the flames roared nearly to reach the chimney, then he sat down on a stool beside him and, only after that, he blurted out: «Well, what is this morbid interest? I promised I would have helped you, and so I did: the beast has grown».

«Oh, good! How big was it when you left?» demanded Toothiana.

«More or less like a cat, and do not dare to advance protests! It tried to bite me all the time, it snapped at my tail four times and I had to tear it off its mouth to break free: it was a real pain! A beast so aggressive doesn't need help to scare!» cried Bunnymund.

Overwhelmed by the outburst the fairy and Santa Claus stepped back, staring at each other like two children who have just received a reprimand, and the second one said: «Oh, okay, I'm sure it will be fine. My Nightmare, however, was as big as a dog when I came back and, just to be sure, I left it in an area where there are many young children: it will grow up without problems».

At that statement the Pooka lowered his ears and began to nervously beat his paw on the floor, so the woman, fearing he could get angry again, moved the index and the middle fingers to mimic a pair of scissors cutting, and everyone fell silent.

Taking advantage of the silence Pitch thought for a while: the rabbit had never behaved out of character, and he had kept his word in the most superficial way possible, but this was not a problem; judging by the aggressiveness shown, in fact, the Nightmare should have also fed on his fear, and this certainly had fortified it more than few children's horrified scream, in addiction to the fact that it was the symptom of a shrewdness which would have helped it to choose appropriate victims. The real problem were the other Guardians: they were incredibly helpful and generous with him, but how long would they have continued? Would they have driven him away once achieved their purpose, or would they have remain close to him? Was their kindness sincere or affected? And, above all, would they ever have pretended something in return for all the care and attention they had given to him?

Inhaling deeply the Boogeyman tidied his hair and tried to calm down: until this moment he had faced the question all at once, overstating it with no reason, so he should relax and analyse everything in a more objective way. Bunnymund had not changed his attitude, so he just needed to be as cautious as always to protect himself; Toothiana, on the contrary, seemed to express a genuine affection and, although it was still difficult for him to trust her completely, he was aware she would have never betrayed him; the two real wild cards were North and Sandman: since they were more reserved than their friends they had revealed little about themselves and, despite the smiles and kindness, their real intentions remained a mystery.

While he weighed the actions the two had made, to judge whether he should be wary or confide in them, a little unicorn of golden sand appeared in his visual field, galloping towards him and touching his nose with his stubby horn, then he dissolved into a shimmering cloud; dazzled by the light the man blinked, confused, and, when he finally was able to refocus, he saw Sandy, sitting comfortably on his knees, greeting him with his hand.

Caught by surprise Pitch flattened himself against the pillows and, with a voice a bit hesitant, he exclaimed: «Oh, Sandman! You're back, as I see! I wasn't expecting you, or, rather, I was expecting, but maybe not so soon, that is... Well, anyway, how did it go?».

The confused and rambled observation he had expressed had not been due simply to the wonder of being caught off guard, but also to the fear of provoking the other: in fact, he was with no doubt the Guardian who would have given him the worse hard time if they had engaged in a fight, and, temporarily, the only source of sand he had, so he preferred not to risk it.

The little Bringer of Dreams, in order to answer him, rubbed the back of his hand on his forehead, as if to wipe away the sweat, and then he expressed himself as he used to: modelling the magic sand above his head he represented himself while, with the whip in his hand, he directed the Nightmare to some houses in the distance; at first the story was a monotonous succession of scenes where the creature caused bad dreams to a child, grew bigger and then passed to another victim, but soon the atmosphere changed: with a bucking the creature broke free from his temporary guardian and tried to escape and attack a teenager, but a well-calibrated lash brought it back just in time.

Thinking the Boogeyman suggested: «You brought the Nightmare to children, you made it attack the weaker ones and, suddenly, it rebelled and tried to attach one too strong, but, with a lash, you put it back in its place, am I wrong?».

Sandman nodded with a smile, then he continued his speech: at first he opened his arms as much as he could, then he hovered at about half a yard from the ground and moved his right hand horizontally, and he repeated several times these gestures.

«Uh, he's trying to tell us something!» exclaimed Toothiana; «Maybe the Nightmare has pulled the covers off the child and popped from under the bed to scare him?».

«Or maybe he opened the window and then crawled on the floor to avoid being discovered?» suggested North.

At these two abstruse conjectures Sandy dropped his limbs along the sides, clearly incredulous, but the man, now accustomed to that kind of communication, said: «No, neither of them. The message he's trying to send us is much simpler: he said that, when he saw the Nightmare for the last time, it was as long as his outstretched arms and about two feet high, so like a medium-sized dog».

The Bringer of Dreams clapped his hands to reward such an intuition, then he pointed at Bunnymund and shaped a big question mark above his head. At that sight North rolled his eyes, embarrassed, and Toothiana looked down and intertwined her fingers together, as if to keep herself busy, but Pitch, albeit not completely at ease, was determined to start repaying the debt accrued, so he bent down to reach Sandman's ear and whispered: «He's Bunnymund, there is no much to add: if only he could have left me to die in the clearing, he would have done it; helping me, for him, was an unpleasant task, so he did the bare minimum and then went back to complain. He will probably stare at the fire until I will be gone».

Clearing the frowning the mute interlocutor nodded, then he flew to the Pooka and, using his sand, he inquired about the status of his warren; the bunny was initially quite reluctant to talk, but soon he gave up and, regaining enthusiasm, he started a passionate description of the latest enhancements he had done.

Finally dispelled any tension and embarrassment they all let out a sigh of relief, then Santa Claus suggested: «Very good! Everything worked out for the best. Now, who wants a cup of tea?».

The three Guardians asked reacted positively, one nodding, one raising a paw as a sign of approval and one ruffling her feathers, but the Boogeyman replied immediately: «I will not drink any tea until I see Jack coming back. Where is he?».

North looked around, a bit confused, then he answered: «I don't know, when we came out Jack went in the opposite direction».

«Obviously, he couldn't hold back himself from doing everything his own way!» sarcastically snapped the man, starting to look out the window.

«Oh, Pitch, come on: less than ten minutes have passed since Sandy came back. I'm sure Jack will return soon» reassured him the fairy.

She thoughtfully came next to him, tucking the blankets, and, albeit not convinced by her statement, Pitch stood in silence and tried not to worry.

 

 

By now over an hour had passed since Toothiana had reassured Pitch for the first time: in that time lapse the Guardians had continued to chat and do their chores, stoking fire, settling the room and alternating at the convalescent's bedside, but Jack had never showed up. He hadn't come back yet, nor sent them any message, and the Boogeyman was seriously starting to worry: he knew the boy was smart and he didn't doubt his abilities, but he was aware that the task entrusted to him was risky, and he feared that the other could have not understood the danger.

It was not hard to imagine how Frost could have gotten in trouble: at first he had certainly taken the mission seriously, guiding the little Nightmare from a child to another and continuously taking care of it in order not to let it dissolve; seeing it fortifying he had surely become proud of himself, bringing it to scare victims less fearful, to make its power increase more and more; then, though, probably, once it had reached the size of a dog, he had lowered his guard. It was understandable he had been carried away too much by the enthusiasm, considering the success and the ease with which he could tame the creature, but that was all appearance: those monsters never allowed themselves to be fully subjugated, especially when they were still in the wild, and it was enough getting distracted for few seconds and to see them rebel.

While he was reflecting a log in the fireplace cracked, emitting a sound awfully similar to sharp jaws closing, and, now certain the boy was about to be torn apart if not already dying, Pitch acted: without warning he sat up, pulled the sheet off the mattress and wrapped them around his waist to cover himself, then he levered his arms to stand up.

«Pitch, what are you doing?» asked Toothiana in an alarmed tone.

«I've waited enough, I should have never listened to you! I'm going to look for Jack» sharply answered the Boogeyman.

«Are you crazy? You can not go out like that, you would freeze! And, anyway, how do you hope to find him, if you can only walk? Do not do anything stupid and lie down again» scolded him the fairy, flying towards him to force him back onto the bed.

«Leave me alone, I don't need your help! Don't you realize that Jack is in danger? Those animals are not pets, they are demons! I should have never allowed him to travel alone with one of them, I should have gone with him, but I stayed here, waiting like a fool, while he was risking his life for me. What if the Nightmare had attacked him? What if he got injured, or he's dying, and he were looking for me? I will never forgive myself!» confessed the man, his voice cracking with desperation.

«Oh, but look at what we have here: the Boogeyman himself who repents a bad action! All my eggs might break down for the emotion! You should think about the consequences of your actions before you do them, not sheding crocodile tears after: if we discover that Jack is injured, even slightly, I swear I'll make you pay. He is not a toy to play with and use whenever you want, he's a Guardian, and as such he should be respected!» menacingly yelled Bunnymund.

Toothiana began to answer in kind, but Pitch didn't listen to a word: in the midst of the confusion he had distinctly heard a clicking sound and, as soon as he had, his heart in his throat, turned toward the window, he immediately recognized the figure wrapped in white knocking on the glass.

Oblivious to everything except his love the Boogeyman jumped up, pushing North and Sandman away and collapsing on his knees because of a dizziness, and stubbornly stretched out his right hand, willing even to crawl in order to reach the boy he had been waiting for such a long time; behind the black curtain which had fallen over his eyes he felt two strong arms grabbing him by the shoulders and waist and helping him to lie down again, then heard the sound of a shutter, opened and then closed; groggy he stood few seconds with his eyes half-closed, unable to see anything, but a worried voice shook him definitively: «Pitch! How are you? I saw you fall: did you get hurt? You should have never get up to let me in! I want you to be more careful».

«Jack, where have you been? You didn't come back for such a long time» whispered the man with difficulty.

«What questions is it? I was around to escort your Nightmare, as I promised» answered Jack with a soft voice, sitting bedside him.

«You took a lifetime! You came back more than an hour late than the others, did you bring it up the end of the world or something?» snapped Pitch.

«No, indeed, I remained quite close to North's Palace, in order to be more available in case of emergency. It took me so much just because I worked hard: I wanted this Nightmare to grow well and not to risk to disappear, so I observed the children for long before bringing it in their rooms, and I stayed with him until it became slightly bigger than a pony. Are you happy? I'm sure it will become a Pureblood in no time!» enthusiastically explained the boy.

«Are you crazy?!» exclaimed the Boogeyman, upset; «We had agreed you would have come back as soon as he had become as big as a dog! So, were you having too much fun to control the Nightmare to be able to stop? Did you think it was all a game? You risked your life, fool! Those monsters are not pets: they are demons, ready to revolt against their master as soon as they perceive he's lowering his guard, and as such they should be feared. Why do you think I never evoked any Nightmare in front of you? I do not trust them, even the ones I have tamed, try to imagine what I think about the wild ones!».

At these words Frost opened wide his irises, perhaps amazed by such a rebuke, then he defended himself: «Yes, I was having a little fun, I won't deny it, but I swear I've been out for so long only to make it grow well, and not on a whim. I was worried about you, but I've been very careful: if it reassures you, just know that the Nightmare let me tame it easily, it never attempted neither to flee nor to rebel and, when I left, I had to insist in order to make it not follow me».

«No, it doesn't reassure me at all!» sharply replied the man.

Albeit deeply satisfied hearing the Nightmare had showed itself tame towards the boy, he could not dispel all the anguish he had felt: he was obviously favourable to this kind of meetings, and he would have always supported them, but only under his careful supervision, intended to prevent any risk.

Jack thoughtfully stroked his thigh to help him calm down, but, in doing so, he exposed the chest, and Pitch immediately noticed that the shirt the other wore was strangely tight on the upper thorax; suspicious he touched it and, feeling it wet, he said: «I don't need to comment, do I? You are always the usual distracted boy. Come on, come here».

With a quick gesture he took off the garment, then he grabbed his partner by the waist and pulled him close, but a polemic voice interrupted him.

«I can't believe, even here! Do you think I'll allow you to lay your hands on him again, even in front of us?» bursted out Bunnymund.

Exasperated by his constant criticisms and rude remarks the Boogeyman threw the shirt on his chest and said: «Oh, really? And, if so, what would you do to me? Would you put an egg in my breakfast cup?»

Hampered by his own big paws the Pooka almost fell in trying to grab the cloth, but, as soon as he managed to, he threw it on the ground and, menacingly stepping forward, he murmured: «You wanted this, Pitch: I'll make you regret having played with Jack».

«Bunnymund, stop quarrelling, he's just warming me up» muttered the boy as he let the other move him without a protest.

«I don't care about the euphemisms he uses, I will not let him lay his hands on you» replied the Easter Bunny.

«Bunnymund!» exclaimed Frost, upset, trying to hide himself.

Without hesitation the man let him nestle against his chest, he held him in his arms to protect him and cover his naked back as much as possible, then, finally, he put his right hand on his head, making him take refuge in the hollow space between the shoulder and the lower jaw; he didn't dare dare to kiss his nape, fearing this would have embarrassed him even more than he already was, so he just ruffled his hair and, when he felt him relaxing down, he raised his face with his eyes narrowed.

«Are you happy now?» he hissed at Bunnymund, glared at him; «Who of us has been embarrassing in the end? My sentence was not a euphemism: I'm really just warming up Jack. If only you were not so blinded by arrogance and hatred, you would have noticed that he often shivered, his shirt was wet and his lips blue».

«Oh, I understand, so he was the usual Jack, wasn't he? Come on, don't think you can cheat me: he's the Guardian of Frost, it is obvious that he's always cold» objected the Pooka.

«He's the Guardian of Fun, fool, not of Frost! He can control the snow and the icy winds of the North, but he's not immune to the cold, just like you, the Guardian of Hope, can be caught by despair: if he's not careful, he risks to freeze. Obviously nothing irreparable would happen: after all, he has been living for three hundred years without anyone who checked him and warmed him up when it was necessary, but there is no reason to risk, nor to let him wander dazed for hours until the cold will have abandoned him».

Amazed by the statement the interlocutor lowered his ears, and Toothiana interjected: «Jack, did he tell the truth? You never explained this to us, we would have never imagined it... And you, Pitch, don't you feel cold now?».

«I'm used to by now» murmured Pitch, then he went on: «Anyway, what I said is true. I don't know why Jack never told you this: maybe he never had a chance, maybe he didn't feel like it, or maybe he never thought it was an important thing: after all, he had never realized that the cold befuddled him until I made him notice it, just a month ago. However, it's useless for you to ask him now: he can't hear you, he always get dizzy when I suddenly warm him up».

Willing to set aside the embarrassment to assist Jack in the best way possible, the Boogeyman stared at his shoulder until he managed to completely ignore the four Guardians, then he acted: at first he slightly parted his legs, in order to make him sit comfortably on his thighs; feeling him sliding down he grabbed him, settling his thorax and bent forearms against his own chest and his head against his own collarbone, and he hugged him, to prevent him from falling again; finally, touched, he started to rock him, scratching his nape and placing a little kiss on his temple.

He clearly heard Bunnymund stiffening and Toothiana letting out a little exclamation of approval, but he remained indifferent to both of them: he didn't care about having the consent or opinions of others, he loved the boy and he would have always take care of him, and anyone who had come between them in their relationship would have paid for it.

Just when he was starting to get used to that hushed and almost suspended atmosphere he felt Frost move weakly and he thoughtfully whispered in his ear: «Do you feel better now, Jack?».

The boy slightly moaned rubbing his cheek against his sternum and letting out a sigh, then he whispered: «Yes, thank you: I'm no longer cold now, and I don't even feel tired».

Recovered by now he looked up, getting closer to Pitch's and tilting his head a little to ask for a kiss, but the man deftly dodged him and, with an urgent tone, he exclaimed: «North! You promised us a cup of tea, didn't you? I'm sure it's a good idea to drink it now!».

«Good idea! Let's go into the main hall: you need to change scenery, Pitch» answered North.

Sighing with relief Pitch pushed away his partner, smiling amused when he saw his upset expression, and he tried to stretch his legs over the edge of the mattress, but Jack crossed his arms and commented: «You're so coherent: first you made a scene over a kiss, then you try to get off the bed naked».

At these words the Boogeyman froze on the spot, and he did it just in time: he had completely forgotten he was naked and unable to recreate his own clothes, and the left hip and leg were already uncovered. With a leap he grabbed the blanket and draped it on the pelvis, starting to look around to figure out how to bail himself out of this embarrassing situation, but Santa came immediately to his aid, saying: «I should have something suitable in my closet: I'll go and check».

Albeit perplexed by the size difference the man decided to give him a chance and didn't protested: he followed him with his eyes when he left the room and listened to him as he walked heavily, waiting for the patient to come back with what he had promised.

After few minutes the master of the house reappeared with a big bundle in his arms and, handing it to him, he explained: «Here it is: it should fit you, after all for me it's small».

Still sceptical Pitch grabbed the fabric, waited for the four Guardians to turn and then opened it. Immediately he plunged into despair: the garment borrow to him was a robe made of dark red velvet, so heavy he could hardly hold it with both hands, but, more of this, so wide it seemed a ship's sail; with an annoyed snort he dropped it on his knees, unable to bail himself out of such an absurd situation, but, seeing that Jack was encouraging him to try it, he decided to please him.

Standing up he calmly put on the garment, trying to secure it as best as he could on his shoulder and wrapping the belt twice around his waist, in order to not to drag the ends on the floor, but a look was enough, for him, to conclude that the nudity was preferable to that grotesque clothing: the sleeves barely reached his elbows, the lower edge hardly managed to cover his knees and the abundant fabric formed so many folds it hindered his movements and would have probably made him slip on the floor at any moment.

Realizing that it was now ready Toothiana turned and, with a hesitant voice, she commented: «Well, ehm, it's evident that it's tailor-made for you, but it is not so oversized: you don't look bad».

«Oh, no, it's not so oversized: after all, I would _just_ need to put on eighty pounds and more and get shorter of about half a yard, a feasible thing! Do me a favour, if you want to tell me such nonsense to console me, just shut up: it doesn't fit me at all and it makes me look ridiculous» sharply replied the Boogeyman, crossing his arms.

«What a fuss, as if your usual clothes were beautiful! However, you are not in a position to complain about a dress: thank North, who lent it to you even if he didn't have to, and shut up» snapped Bunnymund, looking up to the sky.

«Do not dare to criticize my black robe! Anyway, the problem is not just the horrible look: this garment is heavier than me, and it drags me on the ground» scolded him the man.

In a vain attempt to save face he tried to readjust the belt and drape better the robe, but soon he realized he would have never reached an acceptable result, so, with an angry gesture, he ordered the others to turn around again.

Finally safe from that eyes too prying for his taste he dropped the garment to the ground and, caught by shame, he wrapped his arms around his chest, as if to mimic a comforting hug he had not the courage to ask for: why, why did it all happen to him? He had been unconscious for days at the mercy of his worst enemies, when he had awaken he had still depended on them for any need, he had even allowed them drive his Nightmares, and moreover he couldn't find any dress to wear! He would have preferred being whiped thousand times rather than asking them for another favour, but fate seemed determined to mock him: the more time passed and the more the embarrassing situations grew up, in a climax which had completely ruined his appearance of dark and unfriendly creature. Moreover, the worst aspect, which made him feel more and more embarrassed, was that, while they had initially discussed about his health and his task in the world, then they had talked about his relationship with Jack and his appearance: issues much more intimate, which made him uneasy much more than a quarrel about his frightening work.

A gentle caress along the spine shook him from that state of despair; when he turned he saw the boy, standing on the mattress, looking at him and whispering: «Pitch, if you stay there like this for another minute I'll become really jealous».

Chuckling at the indirect compliment Pitch whispered in his ear: «You know, Jack, if it turns out like the last time I think I'll stay naked for a long time!».

At that statement Frost vividly blushed, but he couldn't hold back the mischievous smile that rose spontaneously on his lips and, after few seconds, he gave up and laughed in turn.

Infected by his partner's happiness the Boogeyman couldn't keep the grudge and finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel: on the bed, in fact, there was a soft blanket, smaller than the others, perhaps used to keep warm his feet or his belly, and certainly usable for what he had in mind. Without hesitation he grabbed it, wrapped it around his waist, securing it on the front, and he looked himself: the camel-coloured fabric strongly clashed with his grey skin, but it was soft to the touch, it almost reached almost his ankles and seemed to be firm when he moved. He allowed himself few more seconds of doubt for the colour combination, too used to black to give it up so easily, but, after a quick reasoning, he concluded he could have never found an alternative solution equally acceptable, so he contented himself and announced: «Well, I solved the problem: you can turn around».

The Guardians reacted exactly as he expected: North, after observing him for a while, stroking his beard and thinking, nodded; Sandman raised both his thumbs, as a sign of approval; Bunnymund glanced at him, frowning at the sight of his bare chest, but refrained himself from complaining; finally, Toothiana floored him with one of her as classic as timely comments.

«Oh yes, I remember: you were dressed like this when I came to talk to you in the clearing! It will be fine: after all, North is well heated» exclaimed the fairy while flapping around to observe him.

Pitch, who, by now sure of himself, had proudly raised straight his back bent in shame and showed a satisfied smile, froze, while the little self-esteem regained was shattered so suddenly he almost startled.

Greatly struggling to hold himself back he clenched his fists and, with a murderous look and his voice trembling with rage, he murmured: «Let's go once and for all to drink this damn tea».

In an attempt to remedy the unfortunate phrase the fairy advanced to help him, but, when she saw him piercing with a venomous glance, she suggested: «Why don't we all go to prepare the room? We must boil the water, set the table and find a sixth chair to add: it's better we hurry up and let Pitch reach us calmly».

Finally happy for her words the Boogeyman didn't reply, patiently waiting for all to go out of the room and then letting himself go on the bed: the conversation, albeit brief, had literally worn him out, and the very idea that, a little later, he would have had to hold another one almost sent him into a panic. Before he could despair, however, he felt someone pouncing on his stomach, hugging him and asking with a cheerful voice: «So, Pitch, how do you feel? You look much better than few days ago, and you're also able to stand up: you've been very good».

Touched the man hugged his partner, making him lie down on his chest and petting him a bit, but few seconds later he confessed: «I feel like a wretch. First Behemuth, then the Nightmares to evoke, then the nerve-wracking waiting for your return: I toiled more this week than the one in which I tried to conquer all the world's children. In addition to this, then, there are also your beloved Guardians, who do their utmost in every way to make me feel in debt for all the favours they lavished me, and embarrassed by all the comments they do! Pretty tell, the sentences they uttered have been elaborated at the moment or studied for a long time? I've never heard in my life observations more targeted than their! I can't handle going there now, I don't want to: another conversation like that would kill me».

Immediately Jack burst into a laughter, so hardly and for so long that small tears appeared in the corners of his crystal clear eyes and a coughing fit struck him in the end; Pitch, worried, sat up, supporting the boy and trying to help him as much as he could to make him recover from that hilarity, and finally he heard him exclaiming: «Oh, Pitch, you're hilarious! You're the only one who could compare a battle against Behemuth with a normal, friendly conversation! Let me tell you: you're really the Boogeyman. I don't find hard to believe that Bunnymund had been unpleasant, and that Toothiana had made some comments a bit awkward, but, except for this, do not try to convince me of what you just said: my friends want to make you feel like a welcome guest, not like a burden they'll throw away as soon as possible or a debtor of their care, and they've always been talking to you in a polite way, to make you feel at home».

«This is not my home!» pointed out the Boogeyman, struck in a weak point.

«Oh, sure, I almost forgot: your home is that drafty lair full of chains and cages in which you took refuge, right? Please, Pitch, I'm not referring to the building, but to the people: home is the place where you feel good and safe, where you can lower your guard without fear of being attacked. Before you met me you had never felt at home anywhere, am I wrong? I'm glad you love me, and I see how comfortable you feel when you're with me, but I think it's not enough: spending all your time with a single person is limiting, and then I know you feel responsible towards me. Don't look at me like that, it was not difficult to understand: you have a dominant character, you nearly always guide me in everything we do together and you've even undertaken to teach me what I don't know; it's normal that you feel bound to make me happy, but it's not right it's always this way: at least sometimes let me take care of you, and accept the Guardians' friendship. A human connection would be healthy for you: it would help you to detach a little from your usual occupation and relax. You know that, if you had listened to me from the beginning, none of this would have happened, right? You would have just needed to come and meet us even once to understand that no one hates you and, slowly, you would have started to get closer, until you would have trusted us completely. Unfortunately I didn't I helped you enough and you have hadn't done it, but you still have time: do it now. Please, do it for me».

As Frost proceeded in his speech his tone turned from sarcastic to serious, becoming almost pleading in the conclusion, and his eyes dampened, filling with such a sadness that Pitch feared to drown in it. He remembered too well that expression: albeit much less desperate, it was the same the boy had assumed the night before, when, seeing him substantially healed, he had confessed the sight of Behemuth's falchion buried in his chest had almost killed him. The Boogeyman had sworn to himself he would have done anything in order not to ever see that lifeless and hopeless look again, and he didn't fail the promise: inhaling deeply he gathered the courage, then he whispered: «Okay, sweetie, you've convinced me: I will give them another chance and come into the hall to drink this yearned tea».

«Really?» asked Jack, his irises lit up by a new enthusiasm; «Oh, thank you, Pitch, thank you! I knew that, in the end, you would have accepted: you're always so kind and considerate with me! However, can you satisfy my curiosity? Why is this tea so “yearned”?».

«Because North offered it to me almost two hours ago, but I decided not to accept until you'd have been back, because I've been waiting to see the Guardians convened all together in silence for days and, finally, because I wanted a tea for several years, but I've never found the time nor the way to prepare it to myself!» replied the man, ruffling his hair.

Laughing the boy tried to dodge him, but he didn't manage to, so he went on the counter attack: with a sudden movement he leaped forward and placed his lips on his, pressing to lure him and throwing his arms around his neck in order not to let him escape.

This precaution, however, couldn't be more unnecessary: since he had waken up that morning, Pitch had longed to be alone with his snowflake to fondle him, so he didn't waste neither the time nor the opportunity to do it. With a deep sigh he caressed his thighs, going along the sides almost to the shoulder blades and then holding tightly his partner, then he closed his eyes and deepened the kiss: sticking out his tongue in search of his one he made him open his mouth and, holding back the shivers, he stroked it, enjoying its warmth and softness and getting captured by that dance as sensual as sweet.

Just when Frost let out a soft moan and the Boogeyman moved his palms on his pelvis to push him under himself, a shrill voice brought him back to reality, trilling: «Boys, the tea is almost ready! Are you coming?».

Gasping the two parted, frightened by the sudden interruption and, perhaps, fearful of being discovered, but, as soon as they were sure they hadn't been seen, they exchanged a conspiratorial glance and, giggling, they got ready to move.

With an agile leap the boy got down the bed, picking up the shirt which, albeit still wet, should have warmed up enough, and then the staff, which he had negligently dropped in a corner; finally he quickly wore the cloth and returned to the convalescent's bedside to help him.

Pitch, proud as always, refused the friendly hand offered to him and, levering his arms, he hardly stood up; for a moment a black curtain fell on his eyes, disorienting him and making him stagger to the point he feared to fall, but, fortunately, he managed to keep his balance until his sight returned clear and, now firm, he could proceed without problem. Preceded by Jack he left the room and walked down a dark corridor, a decisive discordant note in a place which, he remembered from his previous visits, was usually full of light and colours; it didn't take him long to understand the reason: after few meters the ceiling opened, revealing the Globe in all its decadent splendour.

Stunned Pitch stopped, to look directly at it: the lights which adorned it were still considerably numerous, but they decreased from instant to instant, switching off even under his eyes open wide in disbelief; however, that was not the most disturbing aspect: the structure, in fact, was still impressive and respectable, but it creaked loudly and, in some places, the upholstery panels already gave signs of structural failure. It seemed absurd to use such a word for an inanimate object, but it really seemed that the Globe was _dying_ : unlike the usual, in fact, it didn't seem it was simply switching off, but being slowly disassembled, falling bit by bit until it would have become useless scrap metal, as if it already knew it would have never be needed any more.

Not betraying his dark soul the Boogeyman grinned wickedly at that sight, satisfied by the Guardians' weakening, but, intimately, he admitted that this small victory left him with a bitter taste: he had not been able to enjoy it to the hilt because of his illness, but, above all, he clearly perceived that it hadn't fortified him.

As if to confirm that he was struck by a vertigo, so sudden and violent that, for few seconds, he lost the space perception; overturned in an upside down universe he stretched out his hands in front of himself, as if to grab a handhold, but he had completely lost the sense of touch, then moved by instinct until the dizziness faded away.

From the muffled world around him a familiar voice shook him and asked in a worried tone: «Pitch! Are you okay? Do you want to go back and lie down? You're always the same hardhead: you should have let me help you from the beginning!».

Shaking his head to fully recover the man finally realized he was on his knees, clasping his love with his arms with enough force to almost take his breath away, and he didn't take long to understand he had risked to drag him to the ground with him in order to save himself. Repentant he immediately freed him, checking, without being noticed, if he had hurt him, then he justified himself: «Now do not exaggerate, I just slipped down! I can easily stand up, but, since you insist so much, you can you help me to get up».

Jack didn't need to be asked twice and he offered him his forearm, clinging to the staff to guarantee him a firm support and hugging him tightly as soon as he saw him standing up, his legs still trembling, and, albeit fearing someone could see them, Pitch didn't pull him away: he preferred to walk with his overt aid rather than advancing on his own and risking to fall again.

With his partner's arm wrapped around his waist as a caring support he stepped forward, proceeding slowly until he came to an open area in front of the Globe, and he allowed himself a moment to study it: as he remembered in the middle of it there was a large round table made of solid wood, adorned with elaborate carvings whose spirals, intertwined with each other, went to recreate the symbol of each Guardian, but there were some details new to him.

The first that leaped out was the presence of a fifth decoration on the surface, specially dedicated to Frost: the board's clear colour showed it had been carved recently, overlapping thick and thin straight lines, in such a way to recreate the shape of a snowflake, and framing everything into a regular hexagon, and the slightly inclined and eccentric position went perfectly with the playful character of the boy, always ready to break out of the mould in order to surprise anyone and have fun.

Despite the admiration for such a sculptural masterpiece and the hint of pride for the position reached by his love, it was definitely the second particular which amazed him: of course a fifth chair, already adorned according to the same motifs of the table, had been added for Jack, but, next to it, there was a sixth one, placed there specifically for him, Pitch; apparently it looked simple and almost bare, as if it were spare piece exhumed at last so as not to leave him without a seat, but the Boogeyman had always been accustomed to notice everything to turn it to his advantage, so it took to him less than a blink of an eye to realize that, on it, it had already been done a rough carving: two small notches stood out in the centre of the backrest and, against the light, a drawing, schematic, but equally impressive, of a majestic Nightmare began to take shape.

Opening wide his eyes the man stopped, shocked: why did North have troubled himself to such an extent? A simple stool would have be sufficient as a seat for his temporary stay, there was no need to fabricate one dedicated specifically to him: after all, he was going to leave as soon as possible and never come back. Maybe had the Guardians not guessed it? Maybe did they persist in denying the evidence, and try to convince him to stay with gifts and flattery for purposes unknown to him? No, none of these reasons: the gift was simply a free and generous care, intended only to make him feel more comfortable in an environment he still couldn't accept, and probably also a small gesture to let him know he was well-liked and he could have returned at any time to spent an afternoon in pleasant company.

Pitch would have liked to get closer to the chair, study it and ask for explanations to dispel any doubt about it, but he did not want to show he was interested, nor leave his enemies the slightest chance to hope they had finally managed to find a way to his black heart: there were methods far more discreet than an explicit question to inquire into that and, in any case, he had only to wait few days to see how the work on the backrest would have proceeded.

Simulating a perfect indifference he took place, sitting down heavily because of his tiredness and soon imitated by his love, but, looking up, he realized he was casually in front of Bunnymund: undoubtedly an unfortunate circumstance, but which he could elegantly ignore.

Without considering him worthy of a glance he turned to Toothiana, who, helpful as always, had approached him to pour him the tea; full of expectation he stared at the cup while it was filled with the bright red liquid, losing himself in the fanciful figures created by the emanated steam, and, deeply inhaling the fragrance, he asked: «Is this a Christmas mixture, am I wrong? The base is black tea, but I smell cinnamon, cardamom and cloves. And this bright red? Maybe is due to cranberry?».

Opened wide his eyes in wonder North exclaimed: «What an intuit! You guessed right! Are you an expert of tea or something?».

Chuckling the Boogeyman replied: «No, not really, but I always loved drinking tea: I've always done it, even if I don't need to drink in order to live. I've always found it pleasant and relaxing, but it's been years since I drank my last one, and, now that I think about it, I cannot really say why I stopped».

With a sympathetic smile the fairy, who had now arrived on the other side of the table, said: «We have all the tea you could want, Pitch: drink it and don't be shy. I left the sugar on your right, feel free to take it».

«Sugar?» asked the man, astonished; «Tell me you don't use sugar! It suffocates all the scents and dries up the tongue, preventing you from thoroughly enjoy each flavour: tea should be drunk pure».

«We had no doubt that the Boogeyman doesn't like sugar! Drink your bitter tea, we do in our own way» testily intervened the Pooka.

With an amused smile Pitch watched him pouring in his cup two tablespoons of sugar, probably filled to the brim more on the rebound than on his own volition, but he refrained himself from commenting: discussing because of divergent personal tastes was useless, moreover if the interlocutor was as touchy and aggressive as the Easter Bunny.

Sipping that yearned tea in peace he enjoyed his spicy flavour and the silence which accompanied that moment, finally managing to clear his mind of all worries, and, for the first time since he had be brought dying to North's Palace, he didn't found the company disagreeable: each of the Guardians had their own character, sometimes pleasant and sometimes unpleasant, but, overall, tolerable. He had never felt so embarrassed in his life, but nor so well-liked: until few months before the only individuals which he had gone around with were his Nightmares, creatures capable of making him feel powerful, but too dangerous to put him at ease. He had never wanted to admit it, but the life he had lived had been not only hard, but also exhausting: having to constantly watch his back from the servants he evoked had, over the centuries, worn him out down to the depths, so it seemed almost unreal, for him, to be able to relax a little.

In any case, however, he didn't regret a more calm existence: despite his love for Jack and the gratitude for his rescuers he was still the Boogeyman. He couldn't help but grinning in front of others' misfortunes, he couldn't hold back nasty comments when he had the opportunity to do them, he felt the need to approach someone when they stirred in sleep: fear was his essence, what strengthened him and made him slave at the same time, the only thing which could give him exciting thrills comparable to those which Frost caused him. He had no doubt, the boy was the most important thing he had and he would have sacrificed everything to keep him with himself, even his dark work, but he would have given it up only and uniquely in that case.

Just as he indulged in these reflections and started to feel a touch of nostalgia because he had not been able to exercise his profession for so many days, something called him from afar. At first it seemed to him an auditory hallucination due to the long illness, then a faint echo, then a call, so he instinctively turned to the boy, saying: «Yes, Jack, tell me».

The partner, puzzled, stopped fiddling with the spoon in the cup half-empty and replied: «Do you need something, Pitch? I didn't call you».

Dumbfounded the man froze, trying to focus on the sound which was growing louder and louder, and which yet no one but he seemed to hear: he listened to it for a long time, and finally he understood.

With a satisfied grin and a look full of expectancy he stood up, pulling away his chair and reassuring his love, who had already come to his aid, with a kiss on the temple, then he stepped forward to stand in front of the open space in the Globe's shade; he didn't have to wait long: after few seconds a disturbing neigh echoed throughout the hall and a figure familiar to him entered from the opening in the roof.

The Nightmare which came towards him was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen: taller than him, powerful but lithe, magnificent in every small detail. It was so perfect that, initially, he even didn't manage to enjoy his vision while it rode: the man's eyes were so overwhelmed by the myriad of details that jumped from one to another, preventing him from appreciating his entire figure.

Aware of its beauty and, perhaps, realizing how much his master had been impressed, the Pureblood made a round around the Globe, arching his neck and bucking to swell the long tail and mane, and Pitch, pulling himself together with difficulty, finally managed to classify it: it was a special creature, so rare that the category which it belonged to didn't even have a name, because only once in his life it happened to him to see one. At first, made doubtful by the few previous cases, he had mistaken it for an Innexia, but the slim and seductive silhouette, adorned as with long horsehair as with sharp teeth, left no doubt: that monster was born to lure, trap and torture.

A mortal would have never experienced serious consequences from an attack: for reasons unknown to him that creature was intangible to a normal human's touch and, when it tried to bite him, it passed through them like they were made of air, without leaving any wound, but the atrocious screams the victim let out were a clear sign of how much they were suffering the tortures. The immortals, on the contrary, seemed to be vulnerable to his jaws, but he didn't know enough about it to be able to fully understand that lethal machine's potentiality: he should have waited, in order to tame and study it, and only after weeks of hard training he would have been sure to discover its every secret.

Enthusiastic for the birth of a new Pureblood, after days and days of total abstinence from bad dreams, for the luck he had had in finding one so beautiful and for the docility it showed, Pitch allowed him to get closer, shivering at the thrills of pure fear it emitted and licking his lips at the idea of what awaited him.

With affected calm the Nightmare approached him, keeping his head down and then slowly raising it up to touch his abdomen; opening his arms the Boogeyman let him go up, quivering under the hesitant brushing of his muzzle and the panting breath of his dilated nostrils, and he tilted his head, to allow it reaching his neck.

Instinctively he held his breath, overwhelmed with excitement for such a contact, and his pupils got dilated, while his face took on a languid expression impossible to hold back: the seductive creature knew incredibly well what nerve it should hit to lure him, evoking images in his mind of his intimate union with Jack and fulfilling his most forbidden dreams, representing his partner chained to the bed, exhausted after an intercourse while he begged to have more and more, with a collar as he handed him the end of the leash, offered himself, turned into a dark Prince as he undressed, sitting on a throne of ice and black sand as he slid his hand between his spread legs to satisfy himself.

If only he could have, the man, at that very moment, would have turned and, tearing off his love's clothes, he would have make him his, taking him until he fainted from exhaustion, and an inner voice even tried to convince him he actually could: after all, why on earth shouldn't he have satisfied his cravings, all the more so they coincided with the boy's one? Why should he have denied his cries of pleasure? And what was wrong with doing it right there, on that table fresh carved, enriching it with scratches and painting it with Frost's semen, to declare once and for all that he belonged to him and make clear that, as a good Guardian of Fun, he knew how to entertain himself at best?

With a great effort of will Pitch managed to control himself, holding back himself from committing rash actions and focusing again on the Pureblood. Regaining his willpower he opened his eyes and bent his lips into a smug grin, then he acted: he dove his fingers into the Nightmares' mane, yanked it until he could stare into its burning eyes and whispered: «Welcome, my beauty».

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Feel free to leave a comment or ask me anything about the story. Next chapter will be published on Saturday if tomorrow I don't work, on Sunday if I do. Have a nice day!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote on tumblr, this chapter is only half of the original one. Don't worry, is ten pages long, like the others: the “problem” was that the original one was sixteen pages long and I couldn't do all this work at one time. There was a break at page ten, so I split the chapter right there; I'm sorry the next chapter will be only six pages long, but I had to do this.

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 24**

 

 

«Welcome, my beauty» whispered Pitch.

It was with infinite pleasure that he saw the Nightmare turning the muzzle to the side, lifting the front leg, as to evade the compliment, and with priceless satisfaction that he watched it shaking its head and neck in order to sway the long mane, in a move that, at first glance, might seem unaware, but, at a second one, a technique designed to show the silky fur, the flicking muscles, the slim silhouette and the burning eyes: that creature knew exactly how to get noticed and attract those who were around it, and there was no need of any specific training to improve a strategy already so perfect.

Eager to reward such a beauty and come in contact with the Pureblood he pulled harder its hair, making it expose the right side, then he whispered in its ear: «Oh, my beauty, you were born just few minutes ago, and yet you're already so perfect: with a normal Pureblood I would have needed weeks to achieve such a result. You know you're special, right? I see how solemnly you walk, how you behave: you know you're unique, you know no one comes up to you, and you're delighted with this. You are right, beauty, you must be proud of it: the more you are aware of your charm and the more your victims will easily fall at your feet. You can't wait to attack someone, am I wrong? You can't wait to seduce a pathetic human being until you'll flatter them on owning you, and then betray him, sinking your teeth into their flesh. Do not worry, my beauty, you can take all the kids you want, all, from first to last: no one can resist your power. First, however, you must do one thing for me: you must escort the Nightmares I will create for you now, accompany them to the children and help them until they'll become Pureblood. I want an invincible army, a rank so big to generate a roar when it starts to gallop, and to instil terror even only when it's mentioned: I want a troop worthy of fear itself. If you make me happy, I'll give you the lead of it: you will be the flagship, the cutting edge of my gloomy maniple. Carry out my orders and you will officially be the best».

Before the Pureblood could react an annoyed voice intervened, quibbling: «Well, Pitch, do you want us to bring a chair and pastries by chance? This is not your home: you must be respectful! You've already let in one of your loathsome Nightmares without permission, and now you even dare to talk to it in private? Shoo him immediately! Send it to do its dirty work and tell us what you have whispered in a tone so conspiratorial».

Amused by his umpteenth complaint Pitch turned and, sensually stroking the creature's neck, he said: «Oh, Bunny, do you got huffy because you feel left out? Because I had my back on you and I didn't care about you, just as you didn't exist? You should have got used to this after the last Easter, don't you think so?».

«Lousy bastard, I will destroy your beast as you've destroyed my beautiful eggs!» burst out Bunnymund, springing to his feet and reaching out for the boomerangs.

«Cut it out!» boomed North, with a tone so high that his voice echoed to the ceiling and back; «You're both guests in my home and I will not tolerate bickering! Bunnymund, stop complaining about everything and be so annoying: you're worse than a child, and you're starting to bore even us. And you, Pitch, stop provoking him: remember you owe your life to him. He can be insupportable, but I agree with him on one thing: you cannot confabulate with your Nightmares in private until you're in my house. Show us the beast and tell us what you have said to it».

«Finally, someone who's able to talk in a civil manner! Exactly what I was waiting for» exclaimed the Boogeyman with an unctuous manner.

To remark the reproach which Santa Claus had just addressed him he looked the Pooka up and down, but he didn't see him react; pleased to have finally shut up the petulant rival the man moved away, letting the Pureblood stepping forward and settling its mane to empathize its beauty, then he explained: «This is the Nightmare I gave to Jack and now it's a Pureblood. Magnificent, isn't it? It 'a beautiful beast, one of the best I've ever seen. I never imagined it could be born in a time like this, when I'm not in full owning of my powers, but, actually, I should have expected it: Jack has an innate talent to tame Nightmares. You've seen the ease with which he played with the one I entrusted him: if only he wanted he could become a prince as dark and fearsome as me. It's a pity that he remains desperately clung to his Guardian's task, devoted only to protect children and preserve all that is wonderful in the world: a waste without equal. He's so stubborn... but, who knows, maybe one day he would change his mind. Anyway, a while ago I was not "confabulating" anything to worry about: I just welcomed the Pureblood as it deserved, then I gave it instructions about what it will have to do right now».

Strangely docile, the Nightmare didn't move during the whole explanation, letting the Guardians gazing itself while it heavily breathed, and the audience reacted exactly as Pitch expected: Bunnymund rolled his eyes and tried to look away, certainly torn between the hatred for a creature so cruel and the sensual charm this one was using to lure him; North and Sandman stared at it warily, concentrated in analysing it and perhaps too powerful to be tempted by it; finally Toothiana, looking scared and intrigued at the same time, curled up on the chair, hiding herself behind the backrest, but leaning out of it to be able to observe every line of a beast so unusual for her.

On the contrary, his love left him completely stunned: his eyes were opened so wide they showed the entire iris, his mouth unconsciously parted and his arms inert along his sides. The expression on his face was shifty and inscrutable: sometimes it seemed upset, sometimes frightened, sometimes enraptured; worried, Pitch was about to ask him what was troubling him, but, as soon as she saw him move, he fell silent, preferring to guess his feelings from his reactions rather than from direct questions.

Unaware of the gazes fixed on him, and perhaps even of the environment around him, Jack stood up, settling with difficulty on his trembling legs, but he never broke the eye contact with the creature, then, though groping, he advanced: he proceeded calmly, placing hesitantly one foot behind the other, like a child who's learning to walk, and he gradually stretched out his left arm forward.

The Boogeyman couldn't say if it had been seconds, minutes or hours when the boy reached him: the unexpected show had enchanted him to the point it slanted him the sense of time; however, the best part was yet to come.

Now only few inches far from the Pureblood Frost stopped, clearly tempted to touch him, but perhaps too hesitant to dare such a gesture; trembling he froze, unable both to go on and to give up, but, just when the situation seemed to have reached a deadlock, the beast acted: with a sudden movement it heavily banged the right front hoof on the wooden floor, then it covered the distance and pushed the muzzle on the boy's chest.

These, taken by surprise, stepped back, holding his breath with fright, but he took very little to recover: gradually closing his eyes he threw his head to a side, offering his jugular to the Nightmare; feeling at first its breath and then its coat taking advantage of that silky inch of uncovered skin he bit his lip, not refusing the courtship and clearly struggling to hold back a groan; finally, sensing its nostrils lowering, curious, to sniff his sternum, he stroked its head, passing the open palm on its cheek and neck and then sinking his fingers in its mane.

The beast, expert in the art of seduction despite the lack of experience, immediately understood the silent invitation and, not needing to be asked twice, it rubbed his forehead against who had taken care of him and escorted him, first pressing on his heart and stomach, then going deeper down; Jack, now lost in a world far more warm and blurred than the real one, couldn't help but following him, shivering under the sensual caresses that shook his every nerve ending and starting to pant.

It was no doubt with considerable willpower that he managed not to utter a sigh of frustration when he felt the Pureblood deviate from the abdomen to the side, sadistically ignoring the excitement it had caused and continuing to tease him without satisfying him, and it was with incredible self-control that he gently pushed it away, straightening his back and whispering: «Congratulations, Pitch: it's a magnificent Nightmare».

At first Pitch didn't manage to answer him: his love had stared at him with an expression so languid to make him shiver. His trembling limbs, his heavy breath, his lips unconsciously parted, his flushed cheeks, everything in him showed his need of satisfaction; his eyes, then, those crystalline eyes he madly adored, looked so sublime he could feel himself melting! Opacified, as if they could only focus on the partner, wet, as after a long embrace, and so desperately pleading: not even shouting the boy could have ever communicate more clearly what he wanted.

The Boogeyman, however, knew he couldn't satisfy him, not in that moment, at least: it was not appropriate kneeling in front of him, he was not allowed to slid his fingers under his clothes, to redraw every form of that body he adored, he could not undress him and make him his once and for all. Obviously he could have soothed him patting his head, addressing him a look complacent and full of promises, to make him know he had understood the invitation, or even whispering sensual and reassuring words in his ear, but he didn't venture any of these acts: total abstinence was preferable to a clumsy and inadequate attempt to remedy the situation. He thought that Jack would have not liked being teased, increasing the desire without fulfilling it: after all, as the independent boy he was, he could barely stand a refusal. Although this assumption was realistic, however, it didn't take long to him to admit what was the real reason which induced him to not act: the problem was not due to the possible grievances of Frost, but to the fear of not being able to hold back himself once he had touched him and smelled his scent; in fact, he desired so much the partner he was afraid he would have attacked him and, unfortunately, he couldn't allow himself such an act.

However, he still could do something: a small gift to thank him, reward him and make him feel special, revealing him in advance what he would have donated him as soon as the opportunity had arisen.

Without further ado he came beside the Pureblood, adhering with his side to its shoulder and stretching out his left hand down to its nose: gently pressing below the nostrils he made it lift its head, following its motion with a soft caress and then continuing along the neck, in a languid stroke that, in its delicacy, wanted to allude to touches much hotter. The creature, for its part, went along with him perfectly: it followed every movement with precision, raising its head only in the fullness of time, exposing the cheek and the tensed ligaments to show every provocative line, letting its mane hanging in an affectedly messy way to hide enough to lure, making every muscle quivering under the slow touch of its master's fingertips and even opening up the mouth, as if to let out a sigh that, in reality, it couldn't physically emit.

The sound of a restrained gasp, however, clearly reached the man, who, not satisfied with it, continued to court the partner, piercing him with his irises to whisper without words: "These strokes are for you, sweetie: be patient for a little and I will gave them to you. Do never forget this: you are mine, mine and mine only”.

As always, Frost immediately understood the message and responded using the same technique: at first he joined the forearms, making them adhere to his chest and exposing the jugular; when he was completely sure he had got the other's attention he separated his hands, moving his right hand down to embrace the abdomen, and the left upwards, following the neck's tendons and redrawing the thin lines with his bent fingers; finally, reached the flushed cheeks, he ran his fingertips to his parted lips, capturing a phalanx's tip and licking it with his tongue, in a fleeting and indecent allusion.

Pleased beyond imagination Pitch addressed him a satisfied grin, but a worried voice intervened abruptly, asking: «Jack! Are you okay? Has that monster hurt your neck or something?».

The question broke the idyll so suddenly and so violently that the two lovers jumped in fright: they had let themselves being carried away so much by each other, and by the Pureblood's power, they had completely forgotten that the company they feared could pry was so close.

In an attempt to cover up the secret communication and pull himself together the boy straightened his back and wiped his hoodie, blushing to the tips of his ears and starting to mumble something, but the Boogeyman soon realized that all their fear was unfounded: since he had stood up, in fact, Jack had had his back to the Guardians, and none of them had been able to notice the mutual courtship.

«So? Why don't you answer me? If it hurt you I swear I'll kill it!» returned to the charge Bunnymund.

Toothiana intervened in aid of a Jack, too much in a daze to answer, exclaiming: «Bunnymund, come on, don't be so harassing! It only tickled Jack and, since he's sensitive on the neck, he's still laughing».

At first, puzzled, the man stared at her quizzically, but, as soon as he met her fuchsia irises, he understood: as always, thanks to her damned "woman's intuition", she had guessed everything, and, as always, thanks to her generous kindness with which she encouraged their love, she had kept silent, covering with a realistic excuse a truth far more intimate and embarrassing.

Turning his back on the Guardians Pitch got ready to dismiss the Nightmare, unconsciously hoping that its departure could reassure them and so reciprocate, at least in part, the thoughtful favour received by the fairy, but she stopped him, asking: «Pitch, wait! Are you already sending it away? It's such a strange Nightmare... It seems like the others, yet so different: I'd like to watch it closer».

Taken by surprise by the singularity of the request the Boogeyman hesitated and, before he could even think about how to respond her, the woman acted: overcoming the fear she flew towards him, coming within few inches from the beast and stretching out a hand to touch it, but then she seemed to change her mind and, with a twist worthy of a hummingbird, she took refuge behind his shoulder, clinging to his arm to seek protection and craning her head like a little girl too curious.

Trying hold back a laugh the man freed himself and replied: «Toothiana, what the hell are you doing? You look like a little girl in front of an animal she has never seen! This Nightmare looks different from the others because, actually, it is: its first task is luring the victim, tempting them with what pleases and affects them most to distract them, and once they feel satisfied and safe it attacks them. Do not let it deceive you with his apparent docility: it's a dangerous creature».

Toothiana, however, appeared not to have heard him: with her eyes open wide with wonder, as she had been spellbound, she was staring at the jaws the Pureblood had promptly parted

Covering his ears just in time Pitch avoided an annoying pain in his eardrums, but he still managed to hear the excited exclamations the fairy burst out: «Oh, for all the teeth, look what's here! These fangs are amazing! Black, who would have thought they could exist! It almost seems that there is no contrast between them and the gums, and then, look how big they are! The canines are longer than my fingers! Are this ones really canines? They have their appearance and position, but here there are too many teeth! I have never seen such an arch: it's almost crammed, it has three rows of teeth above and two below, and every empty space is filled with other teeth as thin as needles!».

Throughout the speech the Guardian did nothing but flit here and there around the Nightmare's mouth, gazing it from every angle and even sliding the index in it, encouraged by its docility; after a whole minute she addressed to the Boogeyman a doubtful look, maybe intending to ask him a question, but he looked her in a way so puzzled and annoyed he persuaded her to shut up and give up. With a sad expression she gazed for the last time the teeth which had struck her and, among North and Jack' laughs, she turned back to sit down, but, unfortunately, she didn't imagine what was about to happen.

It was a matter of a blink of an eye: a second before the atmosphere was relaxed and almost playful, and a second later more disturbing than the calm before the storm: only the man seem to realize it, noting the Toothiana's bent and exposed back and her vulnerable feet, paying attention to the light change in the Nightmare's burning orbits and the way in which it contracted the muscles of the neck. There was no time to warn the unaware victim, no possibility to claim she immediately understood a danger she had already forgotten: there was only one thing to do, and Pitch didn't hesitate even for an instant.

With a quick leap he rushed toward the fairy, holding her in a protective embrace and standing between her and the creature, and before he fell on the floor he felt it attacking, burying his teeth in his right shoulder.

Pulling the woman he firmly trapped her between his chest and his left arm, forcing her to kneel down under him and pushing her forehead against his collarbone, in order to prevent her from hurting herself or end up in the monster's jaws due to the panic, then he shouted: «Everybody stop, don't you dare to get closer!».

Once made sure he had calmed her down he gradually loosened the tight hug, slowly raising his back and struggling to hold back the tremors, but, when he was ready to fight back, the beast, which had not moved from its threatening position, tugged him, penetrating even more in the muscles and tearing them apart.

Groaning loudly the Boogeyman arched his spine, clinging at his servant's mane to find a support and trying to pull himself together. The pain he felt at his own flesh pierced by the sharp fangs was so intense to cause him cramp, but he clearly perceived that, through the bite, something else was sending to him: heady waves of fear flowed from the monster's mouth to his whole body, so thick they seemed to him dropping honey, restoring his tired spirit and fortifying it to make it as powerful as in the past; this, together with the fact that the physical suffering caused him pleasant shock to the nerves and had a strongly sensual connotation for him, it was more than enough to put him in trouble.

Settling solidly on the right foot and the left knee absorbed those wonderful feelings as much as he could, then, as soon as he felt them fading, he firmly grabbed the Pureblood's muzzle, pulling to open its jaws; the creature, broken back, bucked and tried to shake its head, but every effort was vain: his master didn't let himself be intimidated either by the protests, nor by the abrupt snap he heard when he dislocated the jawbone, and he manipulated it until he managed to completely extract those needle-sharp teeth.

Once he had freed himself he turned, further twining the Nightmare's mouth and whispering: «Who's the master here?».

Since he had fully recovered he could enjoy whole hog the pure terror flooding into the creature's eyes and, determined to punish it so severely to subjugate it once and for all, he didn't content himself. Grinning cruelly he tightened the grip, winding its joint to the point he made the monster fall on the ground, and, after staring at it for few seconds, he evoked a whip of black sand; without holding his strength back he heavily lowered it on its side, whiping it once and then shouting: «Answer me! Who's the master?».

The Nightmare, by now in a panic, disorderly waved his paws to crawl away from him, but without success: the hooves, in fact, couldn't grip on the floor and they continued to slip, making it look more pitiful than a beetle on the back. After few seconds of that grotesque spectacle the Pureblood managed to pull itself together enough to get up and start to run away, but the man, who had perfectly regained the control of the situation, abruptly grabbed it by the mane and, blocking it, he whispered in its ear: «Since it seems you've forgotten this I'll reaffirm it: I am the master here. Me, not you. You have no right to attack if I don't order you, you have no right to think and act independently, you've even have no right to exist, if I don't decide so: I can make you disappear forever with a snap of my fingers when it pleases me. You are a magnificent beast, but I don't tolerate rebels in my army: I don't have time to keep up with your whims. Today I feel very generous, so I'll forgive you. There won't be a second time: if such an episode will occur again, I will destroy you without a second thought. Never forget this, my beauty: you're a creature as magnificent as replaceable».

Sure he had punished it enough Pitch remedied the mess, gently passing the palms on its muzzle and soldering each bone and joint, then, with a soft gesture, he summoned four small Nightmares. He allowed himself a smile of satisfaction at the ease with which he had created them, pleased with his growing prowess in spite of the sudden exhaustion which had caught him, then he murmured: «Show me how useful you are: escort these thy siblings in their mission and make them become Pureblood like you. If you manage to, I'll forget the incident of a little while ago. Maybe are you wondering what will happen to you if you fail? In this case you'll see it with your eyes, supposing that you'll still be able to see: if I were you I'd work hard to leave this question unanswered. Now go, and do never dare again to get into this building: it is not our home».

Giving him a soundly slap on the rump he urged it to leave, following the figure with his eyes until he saw it disappear from the opening in the ceiling, and then, finally letting out a sigh of relief, he turned.

He had no time to worry about what the Guardians might think about that unpleasant inconvenience, nor about what they could do, because Jack rushed towards him and, with an alarmed voice, he cried: «Pitch! Are you okay? For all the blizzards, your shoulder is almost torn apart! Why did you forbid me to get close? I could have done something! Freeze the Nightmare, cast it out, come between you, I would have done anything!».

«Come between us? Never think more such a stupid thing again!» snapped the Boogeyman, shuddering at the memory of Behemuth and at the panic he had had when it had life-threatened his love; «I haven't saved you from Behemuth to see you make rash gestures! I had control of the situation: I'm used to deal with Nightmares, so I didn't need help. I could have destroyed it by myself, but I preferred to avoid it: it's a magnificent beast, and making it disappear after all the efforts you put to grow it would have been a real shame».

«But you got hurt» insisted the boy with a cracked tone.

Caressing his head to calm him the man smiled at him and whispered: «It does not hurt, Jack, and, anyway, it's not a normal wound: it was caused by a rebel Nightmare, but now that it fears me again it will heal quickly. It was a sign of its lack of respect, it's normal it disappears soon, because I tamed the Pureblood again: look at my shoulder and see with your own eyes how much it has already changed».

Dumbfounded Frost looked down on his shoulder, certainly sure to find it brutally wounded as before, but he had to change his mind immediately: the smaller bites were, in fact, already faded, while the larger ones were gradually closing. After few more seconds the healing, accelerated by new bursts of fear sent by the Pureblood, was completed successfully, and at that point the boy, with an expression of disbelief, couldn't hold back an exclamation of surprise when, passing his fingers light as feathers on skin, he felt it perfectly smooth.

«It really healed!» he remarked with a pleased voice.

«Oh, thank you for the trust!» sarcastically commented Pitch, immediately winking at him to counterbalance the sentence.

Accepting Jack's help he stood up, ready to face the Guardians' wrath, but the scene which appeared in front of him was quite unexpected: he had imagined them angry and with an aggressive attitude, but those predictions couldn't be further from the truth.

Sandman and North had thoughtfully rushed to Toothiana's aid and, finding her unharmed, they had helped her to fly again, but then they had all turned to him and stared at him with a look clearly worried, someone covering their mouth with their hand and someone stretching out an arm as if to reach him. For several seconds no one managed utter a word, and the Boogeyman felt so embarrassed he seriously thought about fleeing away, but, finally, the fairy broke the silence and asked him in a hesitant tone: «Pitch, are... are you fine now? Are you still hurt?».

«No» hastily replied the man, still ill at ease about the situation; «No, I'm fine now: I don't need anything».

«You need a lesson, beast!» snapped a well known voice.

Surprised Pitch turned to the right and found few yards far from himself Bunnymund, ready to fight: with a boomerang in each hand and the ears lowered he was crouched on the ground, already leaning forward to pounce on him.

Santa Claus immediately intervened, stepping forward and ordering: «Bunnymund, stop immediately!».

«You're kidding me, aren't you? He almost killed Tooth! For all the Tasmanian devils, why do you carry on defending him!?» exclaimed the Pooka, shocked.

«He had not set the Nightmare on, and he came between it and Tooth when it attacked! He did not want to hurt anyone» clarified the master of the house.

«I don't believe him, he definitely did it on purpose! He commanded the beast to attack in order to come between them and gain your confidence, there's no other explanation! It's not possible he turned good: you've seen how pleased he was when the Nightmare came here, and you've seen how easily he tortured it and how satisfied he was while doing it! He's evil and he's just waiting for a good opportunity to destroy us all, starting from Jack» cried the Easter Bunny with despair.

«Cut it out! I've heard enough, you're becoming ridiculous» silenced him North.

He paused a moment to catch his breath and regain self-control, then, calm, albeit annoyed, he concluded: «That's enough, it is time to take a break. Bunnymund, come with me: I'm reassembling the sleight and I need advices for some parts. Jack, join us: I need help to test wood against wind and snow and to free the tunnel from ice. Sandman, Toothiana: if you have work to do, just go; you can come back this evening, if you like. Pitch, relax a bit: my home is at your beck and call, just try not to cause trouble, nor go where Yetis forbid you. Come on, let's go: see you later».

Jack, clearly annoyed by the order, was about reply, but Pitch, in order to avoid other problems, rested his hand on his head and made him turn around: staring into his crystal clear eyes he smiled at him, trying to convey all the love he felt for him and the gratitude for the help received, then he nodded and pushed him towards his friends.

The boy, stubborn as always, resisted, turning his expression into a pleading and full of disbelief one and pointing Bunnymund as if to say: "It 's all his fault! Why do I have to pay?".

Touched the Boogeyman stroked his cheek, then he bent over and whispered in his ear: «Jack, we are not at home: we are guests and we have to behave well with the master of the house. Go with North and help him in what he asked you: I promise you that this night, both if they allow us or not, I will sleep with you».

Blushing Frost dared to ask: «Really? And will I also receive cuddles?».

«All the cuddles you want and even more» promptly replied the man.

Reassured the boy snorted one last time, then he turned and announced: «All right, North, let's go: I'm ready».

Still frowning Santa Claus nodded, then he strode away towards the wood elevator, followed by the other two; once he entered into the spherical cage he sharply required something, grabbed some the Yetis handed him and finally disappeared down.

Sandman immediately let out a deep sigh of relief and Toothiana commented: «Yes, you're right: Bunnymund is almost unbearable in this period! Excuse us, Pitch: we're really sorry he's been so rude».

«You do not need to apologize. You're not the one who behaved unpleasantly and, anyway, no matter how rude, he's not completely wrong: I didn't change myself» replied Pitch, looking away.

After few seconds the fairy said in a faltering voice: «Pitch, about before, I...».

«You what?» abruptly interrupted her the Boogeyman, embarrassed for the inconvenience about the Nightmare and the quarrel he had witnessed; «You've been a naive fool! I warned you that the Pureblood was dangerous and that you had to be careful, but no, you couldn't listen to me, you _had_ to let yourself be lured by his teeth, tease it and then turn and have your back on it! You asked for it, there's nothing else to say!».

The Guardian hesitated few moments, bringing her joined hands to her chest and assuming an expression half contrite and half touched, then he flew towards him and, throwing her arms around his neck, he kissed him on the cheek.

The man, stunned, couldn't move and suffered the sweet aggression in silence: he had never received such a great demonstration of affection from someone, and this novelty floored him a lot. Obviously Jack had hugged him countless times, with malice, passion, or sweetness, as it was happening in that moment, but it was completely different: the boy's body was lean and bony, his arms smooth as silk, his nose perpetually cold and his soul so intimately linked to the Boogeyman to make all those effusions spontaneous. With the fairy, however, it seemed all wrong: her soft body pressed, with its feminine forms, against his chest only on some spots, her feathered limbs were, yes, soft, but they tickled him all the time, her nose was hot and pointed and, in general, he didn't considered necessary to establish a contact so intimate with her. Why should he accept such a behaviour? Why shouldn't he reject a kiss so intrusive? Why should he tolerate such a taking of liberty?

It didn't take long to him to find an answer: it was because she was a friend. That gesture which had seemed to him so awkward and inconvenient it was, indeed, a normal way to express her gratitude for his aid and tell him how much she loved him, everyday life for ordinary and good people: Pitch, however, was not an ordinary person, and the goodness was not his peculiar characteristic.

Perhaps, if he had dug deep within himself, he could have find the will to reciprocate, hugging his personal nurse to steal her one of her usual jokes and leaning his head on her until he had sneezed because of her too many feathers; melting, however, was not one of the things he did best, and, considering that Sandman was looking, he find it completely impossible.

It was for this reason that, with a snort, he abruptly pulled her away, blurting out: «What was this supposed to be?».

«Thank you for saving me, Pitch: it was a noble and generous gesture. I always knew that you were not the Boogeyman you showed to the world, but this goes beyond my wildest dreams: the relationship with Jack is really bringing to the surface your human side, and you're turning into the man you were» murmured Toothiana, moved.

Overwhelmed by embarrassment the Boogeyman declared: «Into the man I were, you said, but when? I've always been evil, overgrown canary! And then, what would ever be this "human side"? I'm pretty sure that the abstinence from teeth is driving you mad! Perhaps you should go back to your Palace and work for a few hours: you would rave less. Anyway, your thanks are useless: rather think not to make the same mistakes again».

At that statement the fairy chuckled, soon imitated by the Bringers of Dreams, then she commented: «You're right about one fact: I've been away from my job for too long. It 's been a full week since I left my Palace and, although my fairies are able to perform their jobs well and they've regularly come to visit me and keep me informed, it's time for me to return to my task. I will not stay away for long, I think I'll just check some things, fix what needs to be fixed, help my fairies collect the teeth in a very populated area and then come back: before this evening I should be back. Sandy will be busy, too: the cloud of sand he created last night for all children is nearly consumed and, in any case, the dreams are more effective when they are sent directly from his hands. Would you mind to be alone today? We are so sorry we're all busy, but tonight we will meet again and, of course, if you want company, we can switch and stay here with you in turn».

«You're kidding, right? You just told me that my eardrums will be able to rest in peace for few hours, and you also wonder if I want to continue to harass them looking for company? Absolutely no! Go and do your chores, I'll catch my breath and relax until you come back» cried the man, seeing light at the end of the tunnel.

With a laugh the woman said: «Okay, okay! We'll let you breathe for a while. Have a good day then! If you need something you can ask to the Yetis. See you tonight!».

Waving her hands she flew toward the ceiling, and Sandy, after taking his usual sandy bowler hat off as a sign of farewell, followed her: in few seconds they reached the circular opening and they disappeared each one in a different direction.

Finally Pitch could let out sigh of relief and, limping to the table, he leaned against it to support himself: why, why it all happened to him? The wound on his chest had been his fault, it was undeniable, but he had not deserved anything which had come after! He had paid more than enough enduring the fact he was tied to the apron strings of the Guardians and he owed them life, everything else had been only cruel raging! All of them's embarrassing availability, Bunnymund's perennial bad and aggressive mood, Toothiana's observations and her damned woman's intuition, his love who was not ashamed to fondle him in front of such a large audience, the difficulty in finding suitable clothes and the palliative which he had contented himself with, and now even that kiss! It had seemed to him that the second conversation had been started well, a relaxed chat during which he just needed to ignore the Pooka's barbs to keep himself out of trouble, but the Pureblood's attack had ruined everything, making him feel uncomfortable, giving way to quarrels and tensions, and Toothiana hadn't hesitated at all to give him the coup de grace.

Damn, damn! Except for his failed conquest of the world, months and months before, and the subsequent weeks of agony, he had always had control of everything in his life: perhaps not anything had gone always as he wished, certainly, on some occasions, he had failed to achieve the goals he had set for himself, but he had always known what to do and how to act to turn the situation to his advantage. Since he had defeated Behemuth, however, it seemed he had altogether lost that ability: too often he had found himself helpless, tossed around to and fro by the events and the Guardians' words, and this was starting to get really frustrating.

Engrossed in his unhappy thoughts the Boogeyman noticed again the chair which had been given to him shortly before and, for the first time, he realized that the decoration was far more wide than he had imagined at first: the inside of the backrest, in fact, against which he had never leaned because of the tension he had felt, it was already fully carved.

Intrigued he got closer, kneeling on the floor and bending over to observe it better: in the centre there was a Pureblood, identical to Voluptas, the mane proudly in the wind and the tail elegantly down to frame the scene, while in the peripheral zone coils of sand and tentacles were intertwining one to the others, stretching in all directions and reaching even the surface. Such a description, however, didn't do justice to the work: dozens and dozens of tiny details embellished every point, perfectly shaping hooves, muscles, tendons and even every single grain of sand and horsehair, and the coils of shadow were modelled in such a realistic way to give the impression they could, at any moment, escape from the wood and attack the unwary viewer.

While, enchanted, he followed every soft line with his fingers, as to want to make sure that everything was real and not the result of his own imagination, he realized that there was an incision on the stallion's back: two small figures, stylized, but featured enough to be identified with Pitch and Jack, rode it, the first guiding it and the second softly accommodated in his partner's arms.

Moved he gently stroked the silhouettes and a tear rolled down his right eye: how could he confess to the boy that that Nightmare didn't exist any more? How could he tell him that all the beautiful rides which he had promised him during the journey from Toothiana's realm to the secret clearing would have never happened? Sure, he could summon a new creature in place of the old one, but it was not simple to create such a docile one and, no doubt, it would have never been able to obtain such a suitable one: the perfect embodiment of Frost in a Pureblood had been torn apart forever by Behemuth's jaws, and it would have never come back. Both he and the boy would have missed it, and the latter would have certainly mourned its sad and brutal end: he would have had to comfort him, soothing his pain with hugs and reassuring words, drying the salty tears from his face with gentle kisses and holding back his own ones in order not to sadden him further, looking for a way to fill that void he would have always perceived in his heart with the love he felt for the other and the knowledge that, together, they could face any difficulty. After all, it didn't matter that Voluptas was with them or no: the important thing was that Jack was alive, safe and happy; if it was so, and, in that moment, it was so, any problem could be solved and any lack could be tolerable.

Pulling himself together he fully realized how much he had let himself go and, full of shame, he immediately remedied: with an abrupt movement he stood up, so quickly he lost the sight for a moment, then he wiped the tear and straightened his back, peering the large room to check if any unwanted spectator had witnessed the scene. Made sure he was alone he walked away from the chair, afraid that a passing Yeti could believe he had appreciated the carving and report the fact to North, so, shaking his head to ward off any thought, he decided to take the opportunity to officially visit Santa's Palace: an exploratory walk was ideal for his poor tired nerves to relax.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it ^^ as always feel free to ask me anything. Next chapter will be published on Wednesday, see you soon!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I told you this chapter is shorter than the others and I'm sorry for this, but I hope you'll like it!

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 25**

 

 

More than three hours had passed since he had decided to explore the Palace's meanders, and now boredom was beginning to get the better of Pitch. Everything was exactly as he remembered from his last visit, during which he had secretly crept, in his shadow form, in every corner to learn everything about North; only a couple of rooms, which in the past had been used for storage, had been cleared and transformed into laboratories. However, in order to be sure not miss anything, he had explored every floor, examining depositories, workspaces, bedrooms, living rooms and even the kitchen, where he had stopped to drink another tea; during the whole journey he had never lost sight of the Globe, which, despite it hadn't received any kind of restoration, seemed much more solid and resistant than when he had woken up, and, from time to time, he had been reprimanded by a Yeti because he had tried to get into a forbidden area. At first he had found fun fooling the hairy guards, devising plans to circumvent them and roam wherever he wanted, but soon he had got tired of this game: the rooms he was denied to visit were just crowded and filled with tools and toys under construction, and enter into them, in the end, was more a nuisance than an entertainment.

With a snort he let himself go onto a large red sofa in front of the fire place and, while he warmed up at the flames' heat, almost without even realizing it, he thought that, after all, the Guardians' company was preferable to that flat monotony.

"What the hell am I thinking!?" he immediately asked himself, straightening his back and resting his left palm on his forehead, as if to check if he had a fever. How could he have reached such an absurd idea, if not because he was again in the grip of the disease? But the skin wasn't burning under his fingers, and no dizziness was clouding his mind.

While, the anxiety increasing until it almost gripped his throat, he wondered if it was all his hosts' fault, who, at any time, might have adulterated his medicine with a philtre, or infected his soul with an unknown magical power, a call came from far away to save him.

Completely forgetting the panic which had gripped him he sprang to his feet, looking around to locate the source of the noise, but soon he realized the interlocutor was contacting him from a distant place, so closed his eyes and concentrated; it took only few seconds to him to realize who had called him: it was Jack's Pureblood.

With an evil grin he bared his teeth and, using a simple trick, he made contact with him: initially he had to impose himself firmly in order to be accepted by it, perhaps because of the fear and the diffidence caused by the punishment he had subjected it to, but after few seconds all was ready. It was enough to him to open his eyes to see with its demoniac irises; dilating the nostrils he turned his muzzle to sweep the horizon, allowing himself few breaths to get accustomed to that iridescent and strongly contrasty view, and he neighed for the success: he could perfectly control it. Satisfied he walked, trotting along what seemed to be a narrow and wet gorge, and when, finally, the horizon widened into a circular recess, he spotted four motionless figures waiting for him: they were the Nightmares he had created shortly after he had saved Toothiana.

Stopping in amazement he had to shake his head several times before he could believe what he was facing: all the creatures had already become Pureblood and they instil terror with their mere presence. There were two Anxiae, a Haunter and a Phobia, and, albeit not extraordinary as their old sibling, they were nevertheless powerful: a result really satisfactory, considered the unfavourable period in which they were born and the short time in which they were grown.

Quivering with anticipation he approached them, rubbing his neck and sides against their, but suddenly the contact broke off: disoriented he found himself staring into the flames of the fireplace, gobsmacked by such an accident, but he didn't need to wait long to understand the reason of it.

With a shock wave powerful enough to make his joints squeak the beasts opened their mind, pouring in his all the fear and despair they had created and skilfully gathered to fortify themselves, and Pitch had to kneel to hold such a generous gift. He concentrated to the utmost in order not to miss anything: every tremor, every breath held back, each crazy throb, every scream, every stampede, every wonderful memory about his servants' first night time ride flashed vividly in front of him, slipping on his skin, penetrating into his pulsating flesh, shaking his nerves with exciting thrills that left him almost unconscious. It had been too long since he had fed himself with terror so greedily and so abundantly and, at first, he even feared he could be overwhelmed by such a wave, but soon he got used to it, and the pleasant feelings which ensued from it rewarded his effort by far.

Few minutes had passed since the Pureblood had called him and, by now, he had drank every single drop of the precious nectar which had generously been poured into his mouth: in his life he had never felt so full. After several attempts he managed to open his eyelids, blinking many times to focus, and he wasn't surprised when he realized he had flopped onto wooden stool next to the sofa; levering with his elbows on the seat he pulled himself away, straightening his back and hugging himself to calm the tremors, and an evil and almost insane smile spontaneously rose on his lips: he had succeeded.

With a sudden jerk he turned, to check that no one had seen him, but, when he made sure he was alone, he relaxed, to metabolize the reinforcement's effect in complete tranquillity; the discharges of fear, in fact, had not completely faded away, persistently echoing in his trembling body, and, combined with the sensual images that Jack's Nightmare had sent to him by surprise, were more than enough to put him in trouble. In the attempt to appease the shivers he raised his hands to caress his skin, but, without even realizing it, what should have been a useful remedy soon turned into the umpteenth trap: his fingers moved almost on their own volition, up along the neck and then back down along the sternum, touching every inch of epidermis until they made him shudder and finally stealing him a groan.

It was that sound, along with the echo which ensued from it, to finally bring the Boogeyman back to reality, just a second before his phalanges slid from the abdomen to the groin, untying the blanket's knot: touching himself in that moment would have certainly been a relief, even more satisfying if, by chance, Frost had suddenly returned and found him, but what if, in his place, someone else had come? What if it had been North or, even worse, Bunnymund, the one to surprise him in such a vulnerable condition? No, he couldn't let such a thing happen, for that reason and also for a second one, but not less important: most of the excitement ha been caused by his Pureblood's art and the skill with which he practised it, and he couldn't absolutely let it win, yielding to his court. He had to show himself superior to its power, to reaffirm that he was the master and the creature just a modest servant, to make clear that this difference could never be levelled down, but, most importantly, not to reveal that even the Lord of Nightmares could fall prey to its temptations: he couldn't afford to be attacked a second time.

Slowly standing up he stretched out his arms to relax the joints, then he cupped his hands to try his new powers: it was enough to him only thinking about evoking a Nightmare to make one appear in his hands, and, after that, another, and another, without any hesitation. In few moments a group of thirty small beasts rose in front of him, as chaotic as full of potential, and Pitch decided not to tame them: it was time to create monsters wilder and more unpredictable, capable of acting without receiving specific orders and to independently develop the most effective strategies to scare. Probably part of them would have been dead, killed by bad luck or inexperience, but he was willing to accept it: after all, it was normal that in nature only the strongest survived.

Growling against his newborn servants the Boogeyman dispersed them, making them flee from opening on the roof to find victims to attack, and when he saw them disappear in the distance he comfortably sat down on the couch, or, at least, that was what he intended to do.

As soon as he leaned against the soft pillows an irresistible urge to stand up and act caught him, harassing him to the point it made him itch, and, realizing that that sensation would have never disappeared unless he had indulged it, he jumped to his feet: he felt so strong, so incredibly powerful, how could he ever hold back such a thirst for action? He had to act, and quickly! But in order to do what? Creating other Nightmares was a solution as obvious as silly: summon them tired him and, until Sandy was willing to give him his magical sand and let him corrupt it, it was preferable to take the opportunity and don't work too much; in addition to this, the beasts he had just released had the ability to multiply themselves, so it was useless creating too many inexperienced duplicates, which would have inevitably come into conflict with each other. Recalling a Pureblood to feed himself with fear again was equally inadvisable: he was fully sated and he didn't want to risk another accident like the one happened with Toothiana. There was only one thing left to try.

Smiling, excited, he moved close to the Globe, in an area large enough to guarantee him all the space he could need, and he stopped: he slightly opened his legs, firmly placing his feet on the ground for support, he bent his back a little and put his folded arms in attack position, then, closing his eyes, he dissolved himself into a coil of black sand.

Excited he had succeeded he soon circled around the Globe, rejoicing for his quick recovery and immediately throwing himself into more complex course: at first he wrapped himself around the pillars, zigzagging between the blades and the Christmas decorations in order to test his skill, then he rushed into a narrow corridor, trying not to bump into anyone or anything. He perfectly slid among the pieces of furniture and the Yetis, causing great consternation in the latter and laughing at their awkward reactions, so he decided to go one step further: speeding up and making the sandy tendrils which protected him ahead thicken he lunged toward a window and, shattering it, he managed to escape outdoors.

Feel the wind blowing against him was as pleasant as shocking: staying locked up in a room for days had worn out his patience, but after so much loving care such a cold slap was more painful than a stab.

He couldn't say whether what happened next was due to this or, instead, to his tiredness, or to the spur of ice he accidentally touched: the only thing he knew was that few seconds before he was an incoherent cloud of shadow, and few seconds later again a body of flesh and bones.

Caught by surprise he didn't even managed to think and, unable to save himself, he fell head over heels on the ground, rolling for several feet and ending its run in a pile of snow. Stunned by the blow it took a little to him to recover and stand up again and, when he managed to, the frost had already gripped his limbs to the point he had started to tremble uncontrollably. Cursing himself and his bad luck Pitch tried to remedy that situation, draping a thin veil of darkness on his hips to cover his nakedness and looking around to find the Palace: he had to reach it within few minutes, or those white flakes falling from the sky would have buried him forever in that wilderness.

While the man started to walk aimlessly he heard a powerful song coming from behind him and, when he finally found the strength to turn around, someone scolding him: «Pitch? You're just impossible! Why did you get out of the Palace without clothes? You should have asked for them to the Yetis! At least you had a good idea: a bath is ideal right now, and it's time to wash away the blood and the after effects of the illness».

As soon as he identified North the Boogeyman straightened his back, trying not to show he was freezing, and he nonchalantly asked: «Blood? What blood? And, more importantly, what bath?».

«The blood that you shed today to protect Toothiana: it's still on your shoulder! And then, what does it mean "what bath?" I am speaking about the thermal baths, of course! Come on, I'll take you there» boomed Santa Claus.

He unceremoniously went beside him and, putting his right arm over his shoulders, dragged him along a small path dug into the white blanket.

Numb by the cold and the sudden encounter the man let the master of the house guide him, coming with a little hesitancy into a narrow tunnel and being gripped by the anxiety when he saw how long and winding it was, but he hold back any complaint: wherever he was going he didn't want to show himself weak, and, in the end, his strong self-control was rewarded.

Beyond a particularly low arch the horizon widened and, in front of them, a sight as unexpected as beautiful disclosed: a rocky basin recessed in the faces of the surrounding glacier and completely immersed in steam. Peering into the fog that clouded everything Pitch spotted several pools, placed at different heights and connected to each other by little waterfalls: some were larger, some smaller, some irregular, some almost perfectly circular, some boiled while others were perfectly calm, but all together they were responsible for the pleasant heat which permeated the air; they were, of course, hot springs, nourished by the thaw water and an underground sac of magma, which managed to create a small heaven of warmth and soft musk in a land that, otherwise, would have been barren and desolate.

With an arrogant smile the Boogeyman turned around and said: «You spoil yourself a lot, considered your such an important and busy Guardian! You're a lucky beggar: thermal springs so beautiful and so close to your Palace! The ideal place to relax after a tiring day. Moreover, they're not even sulphurous».

Laughing heartily North replied: «You're right: I'm such a lucky beggar! Like you when you find me few minutes ago, right? Come on, go to the bigger pool: its temperature is perfect and, on the west side, I have carved the rocks to shape comfortable seats».

Giving him an abrupt pat on the back that almost threw him to the ground Santa Claus addressed him towards the pool he had recommended him and walked away toward a small dry cavity cave to undress. Shaken by the blow the man straightened his back, walking cautiously on the wet lichens and concretions in order not to fall, and, once he had reached the west side of the little lake, he knelt to wash his shoulder: he picked up the hot liquid in his cupped left hand and dropped it down his neck, massaging the skin to scrape off the blood and making sure the drops didn't fall into the puddle, soiling it.

Once satisfied he stood up, looking around to find a good access point to the pool, and, discovered some rough steps on his right, he reached them; while he walked he let the veil which covered his hips slip down, gently touching his legs and dissolving it just a moment before it fell on the ground, then he dipped a foot to acclimatize.

The embrace of the thermal warmth had on him an immediate calming effect, so sweet that a smile rose spontaneously on his lips, and without hesitation he advanced to the centre of the pool, rippling the surface with the tip of his fingers and gradually sinking to the waist. Arrived at the deepest point he stopped, wrapping his arms around his chest and raising his face to the sky, to breathe deeply and enjoy the healthy effects of the curative bath: it was amazing for him to be in such a paradise. Every muscles and ligaments' cramp, pain and soreness, which still lingered in him despite the loving care, readily dissolved like snow under the sun, leaving him restored and relaxed, and the soft coils of steam which swirled around his body tickled his nerves, capturing every negative thought and concern and taking them away.

Perfectly at ease he didn't worry when he felt two hands gently resting on his shoulder, and he gladly accepted the soft massage they offered him; with a low moan he tilted his head to leave them space and, after few seconds, he turned to reciprocate the cuddles: unfortunately, he would have never imagined to be in front of North's bearded, concentrated face.

With an upset cry he clumsy jumped away, swimming and walking at the same time and trying to shield himself with his arms, then he exclaimed: «North, what the hell were you doing?».

Santa Claus, scared, answered: «Are you crazy? You gave me such a scare! What are you asked about, I was checking the shoulder: you have been wounded just a few hours ago. Oh, wait, wait! Do not tell me you thought that...!».

«Yes, North, it seemed right “that”!» interrupted him Pitch, furious.

«Shostakovich!» snapped the Guardian, shivering; «But how did that come to your mind!? I was just checking if the skin was still cut! For the Yetis' beard, how could you...?! I cannot even say it! In short, you are a man, and even not so attractive: you're so tall and thin, your features are so sharp, your hips are too tight, and then, do I need to talk about your nose? Not to mention...».

The Boogeyman, who at first stayed on the defensive, radically changed his expression when he heard those words offensive to him and, with an aggressive tone, replied: «“Even not so attractive”? Said the adonis! Why are you still wearing the waistcoat? Oh, sorry, it took me a while to understand that those are your hair! And maybe should we talk about the belly? It's so big that four of me could get into your clothes at the same time! There is a good reason why Jack fell at my feet and not at yours: my aquiline nose may seem too big for, but Frost preferred it not yours without any hesitation!».

Laughed out loud North exclaimed: «Well, Jack was right: you become really touchy when it comes to your appearance! Now let's stop joking, we are here to relax: come and sit with me in the hot water».

Swimming for about three yards North sat on a submerged seat, and the man, though still offended, did the same; it took few seconds to him to find the right position, resting his calves on the sloping floor and placing the head and the neck against a soft mossy clump, but when he felt comfortable he didn't move any more and his mind turned quiet again.

«You know, it's nice to have company here at the thermal baths for once» commented Santa Claus with a cheerful tone.

«You're kidding, right? You live surrounded by Yetis and you are always in contact with the Guardians: it doesn't seem to me that you lack company» pointed out Pitch, puzzled.

«No, nobody ever comes to the baths. Yetis hate water, Sandy doesn't love it because it reduces the sand to slush, Toothiana cannot dive with all those feathers, and Bunnymund complains about the fact the steam ruffles his hair: I am always alone».

«And Jack? Didn't he ever come to keep you company?» asked the Boogeyman, curious.

«Actually I do not think he knows about this place, and I never invited him, because I fear that heat could hurt him» said the Guardian a bit sad.

«No, heat doesn't hurt him, at least not when it is so, how can I say?, localized: if you brought him in a desert probably he would suffer a lot, but here, as long as he doesn't dive into the hot pools, he shouldn't have any problem. Actually I even guess that, after the initial daze, he would remain bouncing and active for a long time».

More than a response that, for the man, was a reflection expressed aloud: if only he had been less distracted he would have kept for himself those speculations, but, favoured by the warmth and the relaxing atmosphere, he let himself go, remembering the occasions while, in the past, he had warmed up Jack. He couldn't help but smile at the memory of those times when, taken by passion, he had gone beyond the simple hug to relieve the cold, stripping him and making him his until he felt him burn to the point he had feared he could melt, but, after the initial satisfaction, he immediately locked those memories in his memory again: he loved reliving them, but that was not the right time.

«Do you think so? Oh well, this means that the next time I will invite him. Now, however, I want to relax a little» commented North.

«Mh, I agree» concluded Pitch.

In order to ease the rest he settled back against the moss and closed his eyes, trying not to think. Actually, he would have loved his partner's company and, if only he had known where he was, he would have gladly interrupted the hot bath to go and call him, but he wasn't able to contact him and he didn't dare ask for this to the other: he still didn't trust him whole hog and, anyway, he didn't want to show his attachment to the boy in such a blatant way.

Resigning himself to spend few hours without Jack the Boogeyman sighed, enjoying the healthy effects of the springs and occasionally wiping his wet palms on his chest to soften the skin; when he heard the water waving, bubbling as if someone was swimming, he deduced that Santa was going to get out and, keeping his eyelids closed, he asked: «Are you leaving?».

«And why should I? I just got here!» exclaimed a cheerful voice well known to him.

The man immediately recognized it and, at first, he couldn't believe his ears, but he didn't need to: in a blink of an eye he felt Jack's arms thrown around his neck and his naked body against his own, while a melodious laugh echoed in the air.

«Jack! How did you find this place? Are you fine, even if it's hot?» asked the elder Guardian.

«Oh, that was easy: I simply followed the footprints in the snow. However, don't worry, North, I'm fine: heat is not bothering me» replied the boy.

While the master of the house nodded Frost turned back to his partner and commented: «I see you've settled yourself very well, Pitch: it was enough to leave you alone only a few hours to make you forget about me and have fun on your own!».

«Guess who I learned from!» replied Pitch with a mocking tone.

At that joke they all laughed in chorus, and the boy took the opportunity to stick out his tongue, stealing more laughs from the others; the fun, however, was short-lived.

Announced by heavy footsteps and rash shouts a Yeti rushed in the basin, running immediately to North and starting to grunt and gesticulate; while the Boogeyman and Jack couldn't understand anything of that quick speech, Santa Claus seemed to be able to follow it, frowning more and more as it proceeded, and finally he dismissed the hairy beast with a nod of his head.

As the creature moved away the Guardian snorted, then he said: «The sleight has a problem: the suspensions' mechanism hardened and, although it was new, it broke down. It's better to fix it right now, or the skates could get deformed. Probably it will take me a couple of hours, it is not an easy work, so I will not come back here, but you can stay: you are my guests and I want you to feel comfortable. Remember to return before the sunset: we will wait for you in the main hall».

Without waiting for an answer he swam fast towards the shore closest to the cave where he had left his clothes, throwing himself into the steam and quickly disappearing from sight.

Just to be sure the man kept an eye out, listening to the rustles that the master of the house caused while walking on moss, drying himself and putting his clothes on, and only when he heard him striding into the exit tunnel he decided to act.

Plunging into the pool up to the shoulders, to get at the same level of the boy, he approached him, pulling him into a hug and whispering in a soft voice: «So, what about you come here and let me cuddle you? Few hours ago I promised you would have received all that you wanted and more, and I don't think this night would be enough: it's better if we take advantage of this free time, don't you agree?».

Frost meekly let himself go in his arms, but, strangely, he said nothing; Pitch waited patiently for about ten seconds, but, when he heard no response and it seemed to him his love's body was heavier than usual, he wanted to check if everything was all right.

Intending to repeat the question he moved away from him, but he had no time to speak: like a dead weight the boy slid slid down, risking to fall underwater, and he would have certainly have sank to the bottom if only the man hadn't readily grabbed him.

Concerned the Boogeyman made him turn in order to observe his face, and he found him quite tired: the crystal clear eyes were opacified and trembling and they continually risked to roll over, his cheekbones were so blushed they seemed bloodied, his lips unconsciously parted, his breath more and more faint and the pulse, on the contrary, greatly accelerated. It was now evident: all that heat, unlike what he expected, had made Jack feel sick, and, since he hadn't supervised him enough, it was all his fault.

Fearing that an abrupt change would have only aggravated the situation, the man tried to awaken the boy, stroking his cheeks and neck and asking him with a gentle voice how he felt, but, seeing that his reactions were more and more sluggish, he grabbed him with the decision and said: «Enough: we must get out of here immediately».

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be published on Saturday afternoon (Italian time zone)! Feel free to leave a comment, if you want to


	26. Chapter 26

 

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 26**

 

 

Jack already knew that pretty hidden paradise in which North periodically went to stretch his worn out limbs: he had discovered it a century ago, during one of his unsuccessful forays into his Palace. Caught while he was wandering in the corridors by Phil he had preferred a hasty escape not the umpteenth capture and, rushing out of the first available window, he had found himself facing a strange cloud hovering on the glacier's white snow; curious he had approached it and so discovered that as absurd as beautiful corner of warmth in the middle of the Arctic ice. That day, afraid to be seen again and scolded, he had explored it quickly, fleetingly touching the soft moss which surrounded the pools and dipping the tip of a foot in the water to check the temperature; flying away he had promised to himself he would have returned there in a quieter time, but the impending winter and all the duties deriving from it had soon made him postpone the visit to an indefinite date.

The years had passed, slipping away one after the other through the storms, the jokes and the vain attempts to get noticed by the children, and that fading memory had almost been completely erased when he had officially become a Guardian, the illusion he had been fulfilled. Just five months later he had realized he'd been wrong: that designation so honourable haven't dispelled the loneliness which had been accompanying him since he had been born for the second time, and only Pitch, albeit unintentionally, had managed to show it to him and made it disappear. Even after their first encounter in his lair he had been on cloud nine, sure that, despite appearances, the man felt something for him, and the second one had done nothing but confirm this: for hours and hours he had stayed squatted on a branch, continuously gazing at the ribbon and the string that the other had given him to replace the broken laces and being pleased with so much care, but the cold ruled the roost that night, and memories hadn't been enough to drive it away.

It had been because of this reason that, called the north wind, he had flown up to those springs, sure that, given the late hour and the fervour for the imminent Christmas, no one would have bothered him; walking cautiously, in order not to slip, he had took off all his clothes in the moonlight, advanced towards the bigger pool and, one step at a time, he had dove up to the chest. The embrace in which he had been wrapped had been even warmer and more enveloping than Pitch's, or, at least, than those he had given him up to that moment: with an ecstatic smile he had let himself go, happily splashing and deeply inhaling the water's scent which, contributing factor the moss, was so similar to his love's, and he had laughed at the happy memories that had pervaded him.

After less than a minute, however, he had begun to feel strange: his muscles had seemed weaker than usual, the pulse more accelerated and the breath more laboured, the heat he had perceive too intense to come from the pool and the sight too blurred and distorted to be simply fogged by the steam. Puzzled he had touched his neck and cheeks, feeling them so hot they almost seemed on fire, and, at that point, he had began to panic.

Terrified by the fact he could have drowned for the sudden weariness which had gripped him and the inability to swim Jack had started to move, walking on the floor while helping himself with his arms; somehow he had managed to reach the south shore, where he had hoisted himself on a large flat rock half submerged in water, and there, by now exhausted, he had been laying.

His temperature had needed about a quarter to normalize: a quarter during while the boy had had to thank his incredible luck in finding himself with the face where the pool was only half an inch deep, while around his hips was two inches deep. After he had completely recovered he had lifted on his right elbow, checking with his eyes that the skin was still hyaline, as always; intending not to leave anything to chance he had stroked it with his fingers, to make sure it hadn't been burning any more, and he had instantly startled, not because of the heat, but of the pleasant chills that a touch so light had given him: evidently the warmth had the power to amplify the sensations his nerves could feel.

That late winter afternoon, so, it would have been enough for him to sneak into the pool, waiting for the initial dizziness to pass and only then come forward, but peeking at Pitch while holding himself back in order not to approach him was hard for him, and, in any case, he hadn't had so much time to show himself up; hoping to be lucky he had stepped forward, fiercely resisting until North had left, but at that point he had given up, struggling not to faint. The Boogeyman had soon realized that something was wrong and, using words incomprehensible to him, he had tried to reassure and understand what was happening; Frost, however, should have taken too long to try to answer, because, softened by the steam, a worried voice had reached his ears, saying: «Enough: we must get out of here immediately».

Two strong arms grabbed him by the shoulders and knees, pulling him out of the hot pool and exposing him to fresh air, and the boy, partially pulling himself together, protested: «N-no, Pitch! Do not take me away».

«Jack, what are you saying? You're almost burning: all this heat is harming you, I have to take you away immediately!» cried the man.

«No! Do not take me to a cold place, or I would really feel sick: take me to the area where the water is less deep. I don't need to freeze in order to recover, but just to cool off a little, and that's a perfect place» murmured Jack with difficulty.

He clearly perceived the other wavering, torn between his thoughtfulness and the trust he have in him, but in the end the latter prevailed: accompanied by a confused lapping Pitch advanced, heading towards a warmer area and then settling on his knees to proceed, and finally laid him gently in the shallow water.

Perfectly relaxed the boy let settle his limbs and head in a comfortable position which allowed him to breathe easily, and he had to hold back a smile when his partner began to brush the skin with his fingertips, squirting minute drops to refresh him: it was touching seeing him melting in such a loving behaviour.

Although he had, by now, recovered, he pretended to be still groggy, spoiled by his gentle cuddles and by the looks which, no doubt, he was addressing him, but soon after, feeling guilty, he moved his right hand, to reciprocate with a soft caress on his thigh, and he blinked, to make him understand that he no longer had to worry about him.

Those tendernesses, however, didn't stop: the Boogeyman continued to fondle him for several minutes, at first helping him to calm down, but then causing him problems for the sighs he had to hold back and finally causing him a sudden chill.

With a worried expression on his face the man stared at him, probably making sure he was not hurt, then he laid down beside him and bent over his ear to speak to him; instead of predictable questions about his health, however, Frost heard the other asking him in a sensual tone: «Jack, did you break North's suspensions?»

Totally busted the boy bent his lips into a mischievous smile and, throwing his forearm around his neck and his calf around his waist, he said: «It does not matter any more now: you've fallen into my trap».

With a leap he grabbed his hair and pulled him up to expose his throat, then, aiming to the bite he had already left him, he snapped at it; flattered by the languid groan he heard he continued his work, sinking his teeth into the torn flesh and sucking the drops of blood which oozed from it, but it didn't take long to the man to react.

Strongly grasping his neck Pitch slammed him against the floor, piercing him with a look as magnetic as incomprehensible and tightening up until he took off his breath and impeded the blood flow to the head; at that brutal gesture and the stillness which followed Jack shivered with fear, fearing he had done something wrong or ruined a moment of gentle pampering, but it was only a fleeting impression: satisfied with what he had seen the Boogeyman pounced on him, reducing the pressure just enough to let him breathe, but without freeing him.

Jack, who had immediately guessed his intentions, parted more his mouth, accepting his tongue and sticking out his own to participate, but he couldn't do much: the man knew exactly how to keep him at bay, and the boy had to undergo that aggressive kiss, quivering in sharing his heat and flavour with his partner's one and wincing under the caresses to his palate and the bites to his lips already swollen.

Hindered by the uncomfortable position, which forced him to stretch out his neck to reach him, Pitch settled back, resting his right leg between Frost's opened ones and touching, unwittingly or not, his groin; surprised the boy, already aroused, let out a stifled sigh and, almost without realizing it, he rubbed his pelvis against the thigh that had revealed his condition.

Gradually slowing down the Boogeyman broke that almost frantic union and licked his lips one last time, then he pulled his head away from him and, with an amused look and an arrogant smile, he teased him: «Already, Jack?».

The questioned, not offended, laughed back and replied: «And you, Pitch? Not yet?».

Taking advantage of his thinness he slid out from under the body of his love, scratching his arm to free his throat and reversing the positions with a leap, then, after locking his wrists beside his face, he got even: not waiting for him to catch his breath he kissed him with violence, then, getting angry when he realized the other could easily keep up with him, he stroked his pelvis with his quadriceps.

The faint sigh he heard in reply was music to his ears: he would have never expected to see the man give in so easily and quickly, but it was clear that he was not the only one who was animated by an irrepressible desire. Maybe had the Pureblood tried to lure him, too? And, in this case, what vision had it shown him? With a little effort Jack could guess what they had been, and, no doubt, if they had been as lusty as his ones, they should have seriously put his self-control to the test.

While he moved away from his hot lips to reach his tortured jugular he couldn't help but shuddering at the memory of those images, sent to him by surprise: the Nightmare had worked well to lure him. At first, in fact, Frost hadn't realized he was living a dream: nothing of the scene had changed, neither the Globe, nor the lights that adorned it, nor the horse and nor Pitch, standing at its side; soon after, however, with a very realistic naturalness, the latter had rested his head against the beast's: he had stroked the throat's silky fur and nodded to make him approach, and Jack, deceived, had got closer, enchanted, but without fear. He had had his first doubts few steps far from them two, when, probably led to this by his unsteady gait, his love had fallen to his knees, holding with the right the creature's muzzle against his chest and stretching out the left to beg him to reach him: a strongly unusual behaviour for the Boogeyman. Puzzled the boy had hesitated, thinking about withdraw from what seemed to him to be more and more a deception, but he hadn't manage to: with a feline leap the man had clung to his hips, lifting his hoodie to rub his cheek against his naked stomach and putting him at the mercy of the mastermind.

As soon as the Pureblood had touched him every artifice had been revealed: the man had never invited him to join him, he had never knelt or, least of all, had reduced himself to implore him to make him stay; he had simply stood where he was, staring at him with an amazed expression while the horse exercised his art to perfection.

Frost, however, hadn't had time to react to the revelation, because a fast series of images had blinded his eyes and hit his nerves: Pitch undressing, Pitch kissing and stroking him, Pitch going down and down with his skilful mouth to make him moan loudly, Pitch forcing him on his knees asking him satisfaction, Pitch finally giving him his flavour, Pitch grabbing him by the neck and slamming him against the table adorned with engravings, Pitch opening his legs and penetrating him, Pitch, Pitch, Pitch, holding him in his arms while he took him against a wall, staring at him with hungry eyes as he thrust into him in the middle of a clearing, compelling him to get on all fours on a bed to ride him better, Pitch, Pitch, Pitch, who made him feel in ecstasy and yet seemed not to be ever enough. The boy had had to cling to his sadistic torturer to prevent himself from falling to the ground, and he had struggled to hold back his hands, already directed towards the groin to give himself satisfaction, and his tongue, ready to beg for it, but, in the end, the exaggeration itself had saved him: not even if he had had an entire night to spend alone with his love he could have received and endure so much pleasure, so he had to calm down and regain control, restraining himself, waiting for an opportune time to be fulfilled, at least in part.

He had successfully pulled away the Nightmare's muzzle, concealed his dizziness with a set phrase as he tried to recover and finally lost any desire in seeing his partner torn apart by the beast's jaws, or, at least, he had thought so. As soon as the wooden lift had dived into the ice where North was assembling the sleight those visions had violently come back in the mind, distracting him and making him more sensitive than a raw nerve: everything reminded him of the Boogeyman, from the capfuls of wind which caressed him, as lascivious as his slender fingers, to the echoes, which resembled his steps, to the scent of moss which Santa fed the reindeer with, that smelled like his perfume.

Completing the two simple tasks which the master of the house had given him had been a real nuisance: they were not only long and boring, but they also required concentration, and he had had to muster up all his strength to gather the little left. For hours he had remained in that cave, sitting on an icy spur while staring at North and Bunnymund, who were talking about things incomprehensible to him, and causing blizzards in miniature to test the wood, puffing at every break and unable to move; when he had seen his friends putting the tools away he had let out a sigh of relief and tagged along them to go out, but both had reminded him that he should have cleared the tunnel and, weaving their hands and paws, they had left him behind. Exasperated he had lent himself to that second task, demolishing one stalactite at a time, but soon the anger had taken over: with a growl he had released all his power, sweeping the gallery with a cold gust so violent it had opened cracks on the walls, then he had flown outdoor. It hadn't taken long to him to locate Pitch, and the vision of him naked and plunged into the pool had given him the perfect inspiration: laughing he had got again into the cave to freeze the suspensions, sure that, given their supporting position and their small size, their rupture would have created damages not with little significance and not attributable to himself, then he had gone back to the baths, quickly taken off his clothes and then stepped forward: when North had moved away he had been sure he had won, and he had stopped stifling those sensual memories and the excitement they entailed.

As he recalled the events which had brought him there, with the satisfaction he didn't have to hold neither groans nor chills, Jack, who had diligently kissed and bitten every inch of the Boogeyman's chest, finally reached the goal he had set for himself: settling back between his partner's legs he waited for him to raise himself on his elbows to follow him with his eyes, then he bent over and took his cock into his mouth at once; he allowed himself only few moments of smug stillness, enjoying the fact he had been able to wrap it up to the base, then he immediately began to suck, ignoring the awkward position and the fatigue and rejoicing at his every gasp. Scratching his hips to lure him and send him more pleasure he courted the member with the palate, brushing it with his tongue and insisting on the most sensitive spots, stroking it with his teeth to make him startling, freeing it to lick and fondle it with his lips and then taking it back, entranced by its prompt response and the growing sense of suffocation it gave him.

However, just when he began to perceive a slight taste of nightshade and he got ready to pick up the pace, he felt a hand brutally grabbing his ruffled locks and pulling him up; unable to oppose Jack was dragged up few inches far from the man's face, clinging to his shoulders to relieve the pain in the scalp and blinking to focus, and he heard him whisper: «Oh, how good you are in using that beautiful mouth of yours, Jack: it's only the second time, and yet you move as if you had a lot of experience. Got something to confess me, honey?».

With a mischievous smile, albeit strained because of the excitement, the boy replied: «I learned from a Pureblood of our knowledge».

«Oh, Jack» said Pitch in a teasing tone; «First you let yourself be seduced by the King of Nightmares, then you tame one of his beasts, then you allow it educate you towards obscene arts and eventually you destroy North's sleight: are you becoming a naughty boy by chance?».

Rubbing his pelvis against the other's stomach Frost groaned, biting his bottom lip more to seduce him than to stifle it, then he submissively replied: «Yes, I'm a naughty boy now, and you taught me that naughty boys must be punished: is it not so?».

The expression the Boogeyman addressed him in return was priceless: satisfied, raptured, terribly possessive in those onyx eyes that pierced him with such longing he feared they could tear the flesh off his bones, and full of expectation.

«You're right, Jack: naughty boys must be punished».

With that last sentence, uttered harshly and sensually at the same time, the man finally ended the conversation and, rudely pressing on his nape, he forced him to bend down again on his groin: exactly the gesture the boy was waiting for.

Sticking out his tongue at first he only licked that pure velvet organ, giving light kisses on its most sensitive spots, then he opened his mouth and eagerly took him down his throat: determined not to wait for the partner he began to suck, using his hands to better stimulate the erection now complete and capriciously varying the pace, willing to bear the other's tugs and frustrated sighs in order to prolong the pleasure. When he realized he couldn't push his luck further more he never stopped, regularly moving both the head and the fingers to cause him the orgasm, and when he thought he was close enough he tightened his lips' grip, digging his nails into his hips to give him the coup de grace.

It was with a groan almost more satisfied than his love's that he received his semen, following his involuntary thrusts in order not to waste a single drop and waiting for the flavour to pervade his palate before swallowing: he wanted to made sure to keep it as long as possible. He couldn't say why he liked it so much: ages had passed since he had eaten or drunk anything, but he was sure that a flavour like the nightshade's one was too strong and bitter for his liking; in addition to this, he was certain that, if someone had told him about oral sex just three months earlier, he would have reacted with a shocked and disgusted attitude. Why should he have knelt in front of another man and use his mouth in that way, bearing his lewd sighs and even tasting the fruit of such an uncomfortably court? Yet, from the first time in Toothiana's clearing, Jack had realized he would have no longer wanted to get along without it: he adored having the Boogeyman under himself and at his complete mercy, he adored his demanding sighs, his soft and pleading caresses and his ecstatic contractions, he adored the sense of chocking and amazing wholeness that this gesture, apparently of pure perdition, could give him, and accepting his semen was nothing but a way to keep forever a part of him, letting him know how much he loved him and considered him special.

As the boy rubbed his hand's back on his chin and closed his eyes to catch his breath the man, not tired at all, turned to him, addressed him a mischievous grin and then took advantage of his temporary weakness: without further ado he grabbed his hips, he reversed the positions and pounced between his opened thighs to reciprocate.

Caught by surprise Frost groaned loudly and instinctively pushed his hands over his head to drive him away, because the chills which had been crossing his body were so intense to induce him to shrink from them; Pitch, however, as the stubborn and domineering man he was, he didn't let him do it and, ignoring the moans and the tugs, he clawed his buttocks and continued his work. Now trapped, the boy had no longer had the strength to stand up and he simply came under him, shivering every time his fingers tightened the grip, panting uncontrollably, caressing his chest and cheeks in a vain attempt to control himself, barely glimpsing among the steam and the fog of his fading sight his head moving up and down in that endless dance.

A minute was enough to bring him to the limit, and Jack didn't try even for a moment to hold back himself, knowing that he would have never managed to: opening his legs and clinging to his own shoulders for support he came, emitting a high-pitched scream which echoed in the basin and, finally, sloppily collapsing.

He barely felt the Boogeyman free him, climbing his chest in an endless trail of kisses and then raising himself up on his arms to observe him, and he struggled to turn his face and look at him, but the show fully rewarded him: his love's irises were perfectly clear and bright, two shining rings of gold framed by black flames, and his expression was so ravenous he seemed about to devour him.

Drowning in those two pools of liquid onyx the boy stretched out his arms to tenderly encircle his partner's neck, then he whispered: «Make me yours».

The man smiled at the request, as sweet and spontaneous as lustful, bending over him to kiss him and moving his fingers to his entrance to prepare him, but Frost didn't want to wait and, digging his nails into his back, he burst out: « _Now_ ».

Hearing that order Pitch narrowed his eyes to slits, probably torn between the annoyance for such and undisciplined command and the admiration for such an initiative, but in the end the latter prevailed: with an arrogant grin he blocked his wrists beside his face, then, recalling their first night, he archly replied: «As you wish, my little Jack».

He took just enough time to settle better his knees, then penetrated him with a single thrust of the back, apparently satisfied with the little care he had had, but with the light of the concern in his eyes; such an attention, however, was not necessary. The boy, in fact, slowly arched his spine to follow the chills, opening the eyelids both because of those and of the amazement: he had expected to feel a severe pain, perhaps not comparable to the first time, but certainly debilitating enough to force him to stop and catch his breath, but, given the excitement, the other's ability and the baths' warmth, he had felt only a slight twinge.

Clenching his thighs around the Boogeyman's waist he silently begged him to continue, and the partner didn't need to be asked twice: finally allowing himself some faint sighs he lowered his head until he could bite his chest and neck, then he tightened the grip around his forearms and began to give rhythmic and deep thrusts; Jack, on the other hand, followed them as best as he could, ignoring the cramps in order to breathe better and running his tongue over his lips to let him know how much he was enjoying that moment.

Soon after, however, he had a sudden spasm, which caused him to lose his grip, already insecure, around the man's wet waist, but, before that union was abruptly interrupted, the Boogeyman intervened to save him: with a jerk he grabbed his right leg, pressing it to his own chest and covering the calf with kisses and hickeys, then he firmly blocked it against his shoulder and went on from where he had been stopped.

Supported by the partner and enthralled by the new position, which allowed him appreciate better both the embrace and the passion his love put in it, the boy finally let himself go, closing his blind irises blind and turning his head to one side: now the only things he could feel were his crazy heartbeat vying with his own, his eager pants saturating the air, his velvet hands caressing him everywhere and his harder and harder cock repeatedly violating him.

He didn't take long to give in: a thrust stronger and better aimed than the others was enough to make him come for the second time, shaking him from head to toe and leaving him more sensitive than ever before. Now perfectly satisfied he enjoyed whole hog the orgasm and any sensation amplified that ensued, and smiled delighted when he felt Pitch continue to court him, pursuing the pleasure he had given but not yet gained, and finally reaching it with a last, deep thrust.

As he had done during their first night Frost pressed his hand on his own mouth, covering it to hear without interference the languid groan the other let out, and enjoying the warmth which pervaded him when he poured his semen inside him, marking him for the umpteenth time and making him feel so desired.

While the tremors slowly faded away, allowing him to breath more regularly, he felt the Boogeyman freeing him and gently sliding out of him, making sure, as always, not to hurt him and to alleviate the sense of emptiness pressing the palm on his abdomen; fearing he was tiring him the boy bent his leg, in order not to weigh on his shoulder any more, but he was quickly stopped.

The man, in fact, grabbed the ankle with his right hand and pulled it towards himself, turning his head and resting it against it: enraptured he smelled its perfume, closing his eyes and lightly touching with the nose tip every protruding bone and tendon, then, more delicate than a summer breeze, he placed his lips on it in a first, sweet cuddle. Keeping his eyelids closed he slowly went down, redrawing with the mouth every inch of skin from the toe to the knee, and once there from the knee to the pelvis, caressing with his palms the areas he couldn't reach; satisfied with the soft sighs he had caused and, perhaps, also touched by the crouched position assumed by his love, he smiled, then going in a long trail of kisses along his hip to the shoulder and taking refuge against his neck.

Moved by those attentions Jack moved his right hand to stroke his back and reciprocate, but in doing so he had to slightly turn the torso and his eyes glanced on the top of the basin's wall: surprised he saw the Nightmare he had grown silhouetted against the sky, proud as only a Pureblood could be, with the muzzle leaned forward to look better.

A moment of distraction was enough to fall into the trap: a second before the boy was frowning, trying to guess the reason for that apparition, and a second later the only things he could focus on were its terrible orbits, so bright they seemed the fires of hell; valiantly struggling he tried to resist and turn his face, but the memory of the visions seen was still vivid and fresh in him and, combined with the experience he had just had, could have only one epilogue.

Feeling his icy power waking up of its own will Frost tried to batten down the hatches, breaking away from Pitch, but it was too late: a strong discharge passed through his right arm, conveying on his fingertips and then spreading to the other's loins.

Stuck at full the Boogeyman violently arched his back, turning his expression into an almost suffering on and exclaiming in a tone half surprised and half pleading: «Ah, Jack!».

The boy clearly understood that his partner was struggling to breaking point in order to pull himself together: he saw him baring his teeth, straightening his back, look elsewhere, digging his nails into the hard floor and finally shake, but he knew he could do nothing against that stimulus so sneaky; it was for this reason that he wasn't surprised when he felt him pressing behind his right knee to force him to bend his leg even more and bending over him: such a reaction was more than expected.

Trying to overcome the mild panic which had gripped him Jack forced himself to relax, decontracting every muscle to get ready, and in that moment he couldn't have had a better idea: the Boogeyman, in fact, stunned by the attack and the excitement ensued from it, wasn't delicate at all and, skipping the foreplays, penetrated him with a single sharp movement.

Without even having time to catch his breath the boy felt him immediately settling on his knees and starting to thrust, not caring if he caused him pleasure or pain, and even not caring about himself, judging by his fingernails which bled because of the constant rubbing against the pool's floor: he seemed more the prey of a blind instinct than the victim of a need.

He had the final confirmation soon after, when, keeping the legs laid down on one side, Jack twisted his torso until he exposed the chest, to watch his love: he didn't almost have time to find his silhouette among the steam that Pitch intervened with a growl, forcing him to turn his face again and intertwining his finger in his messy hair not to let him slip away.

Frost meekly allowed him to dominate, slightly rotating the pelvis to ease the penetration and stroking the man's outstretched arms to send him hot chills: he loved seeing him gaining the upper hand and imposing his expert guide in their unions, even immobilizing him, and, albeit awkwardly, he still wanted to show him the gratitude he felt. The clear violent connotation of the intercourse didn't bother him at all: it wasn't the first time they made love that way and he had never felt scared or abused. Despite the appearance, in fact, Pitch knew how to lovingly take care of him even in those moments: his every move was contrived to make him feel the most intense pleasure, every little pain inflicted conceived to stimulate him even more, every gesture outwardly rude an act of kindness and every gasp a declaration of his love.

Perfectly at ease the boy closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breath to enjoy every sensation to the best; while earlier his body had been overturn by continuous, strong chills, which had crossed it several times until he had reached the limit, in that moment the pleasure he perceived was more dull and well located in the abdomen, and he managed to bear it in a different way: he didn't feel the need to moan, and the muscles, instead of shaking, merely quivered, but his strength quickly left him, while his loins warmed up to the point he almost felt on fire.

When that almost unbearable heat reached the cheeks he felt the other startle and break the rhythm, and he couldn't hold back a cry of frustration: the orgasm was close, and that interruption had denied it to him; few seconds later, however, the Boogeyman remedied that lack, lying on him without encumber him to have a firmer support and snapping at his jugular.

That gesture was enough to satisfy him: trembling, like a prey under a panther's attack, Jack arched, clinging desperately to the man who was both brutal aggressor and thoughtful lover and letting himself go with a whimper, while his skin's sensitivity increased to levels almost painful.

What came next was only pleasure in its purest form: the man's teeth tearing his flesh, his soft tongue soothing the bites, his warm breath tickling his skin, his eager sighs vibrating in his ears, his thrusts more and more quick and deep shaking his limbs, his hard cock repeatedly violating him, these and only these he could perceive, and he felt completely overwhelmed. He almost didn't notice when the partner came inside of him, because his semen seemed no longer hot when compared to his own abdomen, but the muffled acute he heard was the final confirmation: Pitch emitted it only when he had reached the complete fulfilment.

It was shocking for Jack feeling him slip out from himself, leaving behind a sudden and almost pulsating empty, but he hadn't the strength to stop him, nor the heart: probably the Boogeyman was so exhausted he could barely stand up. As Frost expected he heard him groaning to raise himself, pulling himself on his left and then collapse, causing a small wave, and he inevitably smiled: for once even his partner was so tired he couldn't move.

Curling up to compensate for the lack of physical contact he allowed himself few moments of rest, but then, unable to hold back his curiosity, he started to stir: Pitch still hadn't given any sign of recovery and he wanted to look at him, in order to understand his condition. Pressing his hands on the floor the boy stretched out his legs, then, levering on his palms, he turned around, and what he saw far exceeded his expectations: the Boogeyman was completely worn out, and sprawled in the shallow water, his breath still heavy, his light eyes opacified and half-blind and his muscles so weak they stretched in almost unnatural positions.

With an amused smile which became wider and wider Frost crawled towards him, he slid into his arms and nestled against his chest, resting his left knee on his waist to hug him and trying to hold himself back, but in the end he gave in and let out a chuckle.

Awakened by that sound so inappropriate the other hugged him, lowering his face to send him a disapproving look, then he observed: «Good thing you asked cuddles to me today».

«But I really wanted some cuddles, Pitch» cheerfully replied the boy; «And the day is not over yet. It's just that it would have been a real waste not to take advantage of an opportunity like the one that occurred».

«Oh, yes, a fortuitous occasion indeed! Is it not so, Guardian of the spites?» commented the man in a mocking tone.

«I'm good in having fun and entertaining those who are with me, am I not, Pitch?» provoked him Jack.

At that statement Pitch bent his lips into a mischievous grin and, leaning on his ear, he sensually whispered: «Oh, yes, Jack, you're such a good Guardian of Fun: you always put effort in what you do, but now you've really outdone yourself. You were so seductive while you were looking for me and giving yourself to me, so irresistible while you moaned, opening your legs, and you caught me by surprise with your icy treat: you craved for me, didn't you, sweetie? Where did you get all that energy and inspiration?».

Throwing his arms around the other the boy answered: «It's partly thanks to a Nightmare of our knowledge, that has even taken the trouble to come here to watch us: it would have been really cruel disappointing it by offering it only cuddles and hugs! However, do not think that I let it control me: I pounced on you only because I wanted to, not because I couldn't say “no” to its tricks, and I stopped because I saw you were exhausted».

The explanation he had given was not completely true, but not totally false, from his point of view: the Pureblood had undoubtedly lured him, using all his arts to erode his resistance, but he had given in because of his desire, not of exhaustion. Nobody could force him to have an intercourse with the Boogeyman, but, at the same time, nobody could ever deny it to him: Frost loved him, he found him attractive from every point of view and he adored the sensations he felt when he made love with him, why on earth shouldn't he have lure him and give himself to him if he desired to? He had the right to do what he wanted with his partner, and he would have always done what he wanted. The fact that he had stopped for pity, of course, was a lie: although he seemed to be the less tired among them two, he knew he had been the first to collapse; however, he had added that sentence to his speech both to tease the partner for the umpteenth time and to reveal, in a way not too clear, a truth he had not quite the courage to admit: despite the long and satisfying embrace the desire he felt had not completely faded.

«Oh, really?» intervened the man, interrupting his thoughts; «What a great act of generosity was yours: stop in order not to exhaust me further. But you're making me feel guilty: tell me, Jack, do you still want?».

Letting out a giggle and determined to cut him some slack in that game of mutual provocations that, so often, they had had with each other for fun, the boy said: «Sure, but, you know, I understand that now you're too tired to keep up with me, so I will settle down and keep my cravings for me».

«Oh, Jack, how could you forget? You know I can give you pleasure in a thousand ways, and you can be sure that I will use all of them to make you scream» concluded Pitch with languid voice.

Jack didn't even have time to realize the seriousness of the promise that he was grabbed by the hips and firmly slammed into the floor: he saw the Boogeyman licking his lips as he grinned, settling between his legs and then, without warning, he felt his fingers penetrate him.

Taken completely by surprise he pushed his elbows on the bottom for support and exclaimed: «Ah, what...?!».

Pressing the left palm on his chest the man forced him to lay down again, then he blocked him with his own body and, covering his mouth with his hand, he murmured: «Jack, my little boy, you have to behave now: the Pureblood is still here, and it would be cruel only disappointing it by offering it only cuddles and hugs, don't you think so? Scream for me, Jack, beg me, call my name or what you want me to give you: I want to hear your beautiful voice broken with pleasure».

Almost without waiting to finish the sentence he scissored him and the boy instinctively tried to pull him away, still torn between the amazement for the initiative taken by the partner, the desire to seek more pleasure and the fear of receiving too much: he had taken for absolutely granted that the mutual provocations had, as always, ended the embrace and started off the sweetest and most moving moment of their unions, and he wasn't prepared to resume. Pitch, however, knew how much he craved for, and he also knew perfectly what were the right cords he had to strike to make him give in: with his onyx eyes narrowed in concentration he moved the fingertips inside of him, groping for few moments, as if he was undecided, but then he confidently touched that special spot he had discovered less than two weeks before.

With an involuntary jerk Frost arched his back so violently against his chest to lift the Boogeyman, causing him to lose his grip on his trembling lips and holding his breath: the stimulation had been so focused and effective it brought him on his knees in less than a second, and, if he had ever harboured some doubts about that little prosecution and the conditions it would have left him in, in that instant he forgot them, along with everything existing except for himself and his love.

Moaning incoherently he clung to the man's back, digging his nail into it in order not to slip and opening his thighs as much as he could to leave him more space, and he barely noticed his teeth sank into the jugular: actually his pupils showed him only a hazy halo grey and white and, despite the growing sensitivity of his nerves, the only things he was able to perceive were the series of increasingly warm and exciting chills which, from the lower belly, spread into his body, reaching even the nape and the toes.

In a short time, despite the deep scratches and the brave endurance, the boy lost his grip and slid on the floor, but he kept anyway his spine arched, to follow ever thrill and contraction, while copious tears streamed from his blind eyes. None of his reactions that he was voluntary or mindful: since he had been penetrated by Pitch's fingers he had completely lost control of himself and he could only shiver, claw at the smooth floor and at his partner's skin even smoother and moan without restraint; it was for this reason that, till the end, he didn't notice he was close to the limit.

With an incredulous and satisfied acute Jack startled, lashed by one of the most intense orgasms he had ever experienced in his life; he didn't expect he could be able to come for the fourth consecutive time, and he struggle hard to bear the myriad of shocking sensations which had gripped him: the chill which had struck him, in fact, obstinately echoed along the nerves, and the tremors, instead of fade away, increased from moment to moment.

Caught by a mild panic he stammered the his love's name to ask for help, but, as soon as he felt him bending over him, he calmed down: until Pitch was there with him there was no doubt he would have taken care of him in the best and most thoughtful way, and he had nothing to fear about.

Wandering his eyes still blind and wet on the blurred halo he supposed it was his face he smiled, then he weakly whispered: «Thank you» and slipped into the darkness.

 

 

When Pitch heard Jack faintly murmuring a thank and collapsing in his arms he couldn't hold back a smile: the boy had the innate talent to appear at the same time sweet and sensual, and that perfect mixture made him melt every time.

Touched at the sight of his little snowflake exhausted and still crossed by chills he lightly kissed him on the cheek, then he bent over his ear and whispered: «I love you, sweetie».

He hugged him again for a while, reluctant to end a moment so magical, but soon he realized that, by now, it had passed some time since North had moved away: no doubt, if they hadn't returned soon, the Guardians would have come to look for them, or, worse still, they two would have had to walk into dark along a road they barely knew, seriously risking to get lost in the endless Arctic cold.

Looking up to see if his assumptions were correct the Boogeyman saw the sky shining in thousands of colours: while the east already darkened into a midnight blue, the west was lit up by infinite shades of purple and orange, and the zone of conjunction between the two faded from cobalt to violet to burgundy and amaranth.

Enchanted by such a sight it took a moment to Pitch to realize that no silhouette broke the line of the horizon: the Pureblood, which until few minutes earlier had stood on the edge of the basin, ravenously watching their every move, had now gone, maybe satisfied with what he had seen, maybe simply frightened by his master's possible reaction, or, maybe, for a mixture of these and other reasons. Actually the man was not happy about the fact he had been peeked by one of his servants: the idea of having his ardent eyes fixed on the back as he made love with Frost made him quiver, knowing that such a sly creature could have heard their moans of pleasure caused him a violent jealousy and, in general, the certainty that a fifth wheel had participated, albeit as a spectator, to one of their intimate union made him feel vulnerable and stolen of that experience.

Reflecting with greater calm, however, he managed to cool his hot temper: the Nightmare, albeit sadistically clever, was and remained a demon, therefore he couldn't have enjoyed nothing except for the carnal intercourse; furthermore, given its ability, that act of voyeurism must have been more an exercise than a spiteful gesture of annoyance.

Opting for an equitable solution Pitch decided to give a warning to the beast, once he had met it again, but to put off the punishment to the next act of disobedience, so he finally set aside the issue and got ready to take care of his love.

Letting out a small moan he straightened his back and checked that the boy hadn't been wounded: with patience and accuracy he examined every piece of skin from the thin ankles to the bony knees, from the narrow hips to the sharp shoulders, until he reached the face and the scalp, and, whenever he ended to linger on an area of his body and went on to the next, he gently stroked the limb just passed.

All those kind gestures, rather than a habit, had become almost a ritual: he did them always after all their embraces, taking advantage of those moments when Jack was not conscious to make sure he hadn't hurt him in any way; in fact, although he had changed his attitude and heart weeks before, he still feared that he wasn't treating him with enough care, that he let himself go too much or that he went too far: all unpleasant events which he wanted to avoid and which he would have never forgiven to himself.

Fortunately, as always, he found nothing alarming: some scratches on the buttocks, a trail of bites on the jugular, a slight abrasion to the lower lip and, in general, hickeys and light bruises on the chest and limbs. None of those signs looked severe or painful and Frost, normally, was satisfied of them: he adored those marks, both for the heady sensations he felt when he received them and for the possessive meaning they had, and it was a long time by now that, when he saw them healing, he spontaneously asked for new ones; Pitch, of course, had never denied them to him.

Reassured by the boy's conditions the Boogeyman stood up, making his eyes wander through the fog to orient himself; after about a minute he spotted an area that was just right for him: slightly far away from the others, it emanated a little steam, as if it were less hot, and hot had a pretty crystal clear waterfall, suitable for rinsing off from the skin the murkier one of the baths.

Bending down again he lifted the boy, lovingly holding him in his arms as if he were a sleeping child, and settling his limbs and head to make him feel comfortable despite the very short journey they were about to do; he allowed himself a moment to gaze at his little snowflake in all his innocent tenderness, then, advancing cautiously on the floor and then on the moss, he walked to the chosen destination.

 

 

 

New fanart by tsunami-sand!

 

<http://tsunami-sand.tumblr.com/post/94092739982/unfortunately-i-lost-a-bet-with-a-dear-friend>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Feel free to leave me a comment or a question, if you want to. Next chapter will be published on Wednesday. Since I haven't finished to translate it yet I might be late, but I don't think it will really happen; however, if you don't see the update on Wednesday, be sure I'll publish chapter 27 on Thursday


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little late, I've been ill and then the gentle girl who checks my translations was busy, here's the new chapter!

 

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 27**

 

 

Holding his love in his arms Pitch walked towards that pretty little corner he had spotted earlier, determined to take advantage of those last moments of intimacy to cuddle Jack one last time and help him recover; fearing he could slip and hurt him he preferred to move slowly among the clumps of moss, testing the ground with his foot before putting all his own weight on it and changing his path several times to avoid some dangerous areas, but eventually he reached his destination.

The place turned out to be even more idyllic than he had imagined: the cascade of crystal clear water was not as compact as it looked from afar, but it split into thousands of thin streams, each of which ran down the walls of the small semicircular basin to food a pool, two inches deep, so transparent to seem pure diamond.

Scrutinizing the rocks which bordered that paradise in miniature the Boogeyman noticed some benches carved into them, as rough as practical, so he chose one covered with soft lichens and rested Frost there, making sure he was lying in a comfortable position to recover without experiencing any cramp or dizziness. Once he had settled him down he dipped his hands into the waterfall, waiting patiently for them to cool down, then he knelt beside him and touched his forehead and cheeks, resting his palms on him to help him dissipate the scorching heat he had accumulated; he repeated this gesture several times, going down along the neck when he felt veins and arteries so hot they had been dilated, and a smile of relief appeared on his face as soon as he heard the boy moaning and imperceptibly moving his head.

Now reassured he continued his work, rejoicing when the partner's skin slowly turned into the usual hyaline colour, and, when it seemed that everything was back to normal, he stood up to enjoy the sight of his little, sleepy snowflake: he adored seeing him like this, so exhausted and childishly curled up, as if to exclude the world and, at the same time, to console himself of his own solitude, and the Boogeyman had denied himself sleep many times in order to be able to gaze at him while he was resting.

Well aware that that was not the appropriate time for such a personal pleasure, the man put it off to more suitable occasions, so he sat down next to Jack and, gently shaking him by the shoulders, he called him to wake him up. The other, as he expected, didn't answer, and it took little to Pitch to guess the reason: surely the fatigue due to the anxieties run after the battle against Behemuth and to the long embrace played their part, but the fleeting annoyed grimace he had managed to glimpse betrayed a good dose of laziness.

Chuckling he slid his fingers along his sides and began to brush the exposed ear with his nose, sure he would have caused him an unbearable tickle, and in fact he didn't have to wait long: after few seconds of stillness and strong resistance the boy twitched, curling on himself and giving his back to him to defend himself, while still keeping his eyes closed, then he muttered: «Nh, Pitch, leave me alone!».

The Boogeyman, of course, didn't listen to him and continued undaunted, and, in the end, Frost was forced to give up: among snorts and complaints he opened his eyelids and, turning, he snapped: «You're so annoying!».

«You insult me, Jack» replied the man, with an expression of mock hurt.

Still offended because he had been disturbed the boy stared at him, showing his irises narrowed behind his arms crossed and raised on the face, then he suddenly threw his arms around his neck and, dragging him down, he began to nibble at his nose.

Amused Pitch didn't stop him, tilting his head to leave him space and bending his lips into a smile when he felt the light bites turn into sweet kisses, but he had no hesitation in grabbing the other and whispering: «Come on, the little snow fox: it's time to have a bath».

Deaf to any protest he picked him up, took him under the waterfalls to wash the baths' murky water away from his hair and, indicating a bar of soap placed on a rocky ledge beside him, he suggested: «What about having a proper shower? Get that bar of soap».

Jack obediently grabbed it, struggling a little in order not to slip on the ground, but the Boogeyman didn't take long to reach again the bench, sit down and place his love on his lap in order not to tire him and see him better.

Gently picking the soap from his hands he wet it under a waterfall’s stream, then he began to rub it on his skin; he took all the time necessary for this operation, proceeding slowly along his body and often going back where he had started, not leaving any inch of that skin so white it shined through the bubbles, insisting with particular emphasis on certain areas, such as the bony feet and the back, and finally intertwining his fingers in his hair perpetually ruffled.

While he massaged his scalp he noticed that the rebel locks, soaked in water and foam, let itself being tamed with incredible ease and he couldn't resist the temptation to comb in a neat hairstyle: slightly pressing he smoothed them forward, taking away the excess of soap and accurately flattening them, but, seeing the result, he couldn't hold back a laugh.

«What's funny?» asked the boy, puzzled.

«Oh, Jack, if only you could see yourself!» answered the man in an amused tone; «You're so ridiculous with your hair combed and flattened! You look like a drowned rat!».

«Oh, really?» replied Frost with a smile of defiance; «Let's see how you look like with your hair combed!».

Without giving him time to react the boy stole him the soap, rubbed it between his palms and smeared the foam on the hair, then he pushed it down and he said with a satisfied voice: «More than a drowned rat you look like a cat which just fell into the water! Your hair let itself being shaped easily, you know? Let's try a new hairstyle!».

Slightly blinded by the hair his love had lowered on his eyes Pitch failed to oppose to that new, improvised barber and, while returning to focus his blurred sight, he let him fumbling the locks as he wanted.

«Oh, now you look really cute!» exclaimed Jack with a laugh.

Since he hadn't understood what hairstyle the other had shaped the Boogeyman brought his hands to his own head, moving them gently in order to touch the hair without deforming it, and it didn't take long to him to realize that was they had been combed to form two horns slightly twisted ¹.

«Two horns, huh, Jack? It seems you like see me _horny_ , don't you? "he asked with a provocative smile.

The boy chuckled and he archly commented: «I thought I'd showed enough how much I enjoyed you horny before, or is it no so? Do I have to put much effort the next time?».

The man grinned and commented: «Well, sweetie, the more effort you put in it, the more I'm pleased, so I'd never complain! But believe me, you did very well this time: you've been such a good boy, Jack. Huh, why do you hug me all of a sudden? Trying to cover your blushing? So sweet... Now, what about finish the bath and get ready?».

Reassured by the hug he received Frost let out a sigh of relief, nodded to agree to the proposal and grabbed the bar of soap again: frowning to focus better he rubbed it on his skin, conscientiously lingering on his chest, back and neck until he was satisfied with the amount of foam produced, then he placed on the bench the chip remained. Unlike Pitch expected the boy wasn't content with that summary washing, but he returned with the phalanges to insist on some areas, to distribute the soap for the last time and take the opportunity to gently massaging his muscles.

Feeling those slender hands sliding so thoughtfully on his chest and receiving such tender caresses was a real pleasure for the Boogeyman, who liked cuddles as much as he hated to ask for them: it was not appropriate to his role and rank begging for silly snuggles, but, on the other hand, if he hadn't demanded them, why should he have refused them? It would have been a wanton cruelty abruptly driving away his little snowflake and denying him to give himself a treat: letting him do what he wanted, after all, was above all a favour he did to him, not a personal satisfaction.

With a clear conscience the man waited patiently for the other to finish his work and kiss him on the lips to fulfil that moment of tenderness, then he helped him to move away and stand up; standing up also he watched him going towards the waterfall and warned him: «Be careful, Jack: the floor is very slippery».

«Don't worry, I'm used to walking on ice: I won't slip!» said the boy cheerfully.

With a sigh half exasperated and half resigned Pitch let him go, preparing his powers to intervene in case of need: Jack never listened to him when he recommended him to be careful, and often he had forced him to last minute rescues, then responding to the accusations with amused laughs. Without being noticed the man sent a thin tentacle of dark sand to heel him, making sure to keep it close to his partner and well hidden in his shadow and expertly following his sudden leaps, but, slightly raising his eyes, he couldn't help but smiling: after all, considered the perfect view of the boy's buttocks he enjoyed, having to control his every move to protect him was not so bothering.

Losing himself in observing him one second too many he got caught by Frost, who, demure now more than ever, blushed, trying to cover himself and stammering: «Do not stare at me like that! And do not make that face! Rather, come here and wash yourself: the sun is setting».

Accentuating even more his smug and avid expression he had naturally assumed on his face the Boogeyman recalled the coil of dark mist, briskly walked towards Jack, who was so scared and embarrassed to have lost the word, and, bending over his ear, he murmured: «Oh, Jack, just ten minutes ago you seemed to be of a different opinion, and prayed to receive attention: why did you change your mind?».

«I've changed my mind because it is not the opportune time! Now hurry up!» snapped the other, quickly turning to have his back on him.

Slightly piqued the man knelt behind him, hugged him so possessively he took his breath away and whispered: «This time I'll let you go, but remember that you're mine, and mine only: I can take you whenever I want to, and I'll always do so».

Narrowing his eyes the boy turned around, looked him up and down and, as a coup de grace, stuck his tongue out, but he immediately seek refuge against his chest with a gentle laugh: since they had met, Frost had never seemed annoyed, disturbed or touched in a negative way by these violent demonstrations, and he would have never complained. Despite his playful appearance, in fact, he could be extremely mature when he wanted, and he showed it in all those occasions: he was always able to see the love beyond the tyrannical statements and, with infinite care, he reciprocated every snarl and blow with kisses and caresses. Probably, seen from outside, the boy could seem crazy, because, instead of running away from his tormentor, he gave himself to him repeatedly, overlooking every abuse with a smile like a fool and masochistically welcoming every brutal attention, but it was not so: Pitch would have never, ever in his life dared to injury him in a serious way, imprinting him wounds or memories unsolicited by him or, in general, forcing him to do something he didn't want. He loved him too much to treat him with little regard, and he had seen him slip out of his reach too many times to risk losing him again: he had sworn to himself that, if he had suspected he was forcing him, he would have stopped him at any cost, and he would have always do so.

Lost in his thoughts the Boogeyman startled as soon as he felt Jack placing a kiss on his cheek and murmuring: «I have finished, Pitch. I'll go and take my clothes, okay? I'll be waiting in that small cave on the left of the entrance. Ah, North always leaves there a stack of towels: you can use them to dry and cover yourself».

Stroking his back one last time the man let him go, staring at him until he saw him disappearing into the steam and then finally shaking away his tortuous reflections, and he couldn't help but notice that, despite the exciting and tiring intercourse he had had shortly earlier, his mind was still very lively and active: it was definitely the case to put aside once and for all the anxieties and fears that had haunted him for days, and indulge in a little healthy rest in order to facilitate the recovery.

Letting out a soft whimper he stood up, quickly rinsed the leftover foam from his hair and then walked towards the entrance, shivering once in a while to the gusts of cold air which there, from time to time, ran down the walls of the basin and speeding up his pace in order to heat up.

Shortly after he reached the cave and, before he could even familiarize with his surroundings, a gentle voice called him from the right.

«Pitch! Have you already finished? I've got two towels: use them and, if they're not enough, I'll take you others».

Murmuring a thanks almost inaudible Pitch grabbed the two pieces of fabric, wrapping one around his head, to absorb the water which his air were soaked in, and rubbing the second one on the skin to dry it; he proceeded slowly, starting with the face and the neck and slowly going down to make sure not to miss any point, then he put the cloth on a rocky ledge and drew his attention to his mane. He rubbed it with the towel for long, even dabbing it strand by strand in order to eliminate as much water as possible, and, as soon as he was able to comb in the usual hairstyle, he was satisfied and turned to his partner.

The boy seemed to have peeked at him all the time and, at that moment, was staring at him with such arrogance he floored him: maybe had he unwittingly done something embarrassing or funny to cause such a reaction?

«Well, what are you looking at, Jack?» asked the Boogeyman, in order to dispel the doubt before he could think too much and come to absurd conclusions.

«Oh, nothing, I just wanted to stare at you while you were naked and so I did it: you shouldn't get upset, it's the same thing you did to me» said Jack casually.

«But how...?!» burst out the man, embarrassed.

In fact it didn't matter he had already given himself countless times to his gaze: in that moment it was so intense he could feel it piercing him and stripping him of all defence.

«Come on, stop with this nonsense and hurry up!» continued Pitch to cover his own weakness; «Where's your hoodie? Wear it immediately, or you'll catch cold!».

«A cold? Me? And you, rather, what will you catch, since you're still naked?» taunted him the boy, insistently staring at his groin.

«Think for yourself, Frost, and I'll think for myself» scolded him the Boogeyman.

Puffing, mockingly annoyed, Frost walked away to retrieve his shirt and the man took the opportunity to focus: he was tired of wearing a pathetic blanket wrapped around his waist as a garment, and he wanted to try to recreate the fabric which he usually wore. Now he felt he had accumulated a lot more power than when he had got into the basin, so he just needed to lower his eyelids for few seconds to start to perceive the black sand, even finer than usual, flowing from his hands, compacting to form a soft and thin cloth and then adhering to him to recreate his loved garments.

The robe, as he expected, was the first one which was formed, because it followed the shape of his body only partially and, with the exception of the sleeves, it didn't have complex parts, but the tight pants he used to wear were too complicated for his current skills; he persisted for another minute, making the sand dark twist around his own limbs in an attempt to model it at his best, but, after he had obtained first a shapeless sack and then a pair of trousers torn in several spots, he gave up: insisting on it was and risking to collapse only for those was useless.

«Pitch, I don't mind at all that you're not wearing pants, but I think that North and the others would have something to complain about it» said the boy, winking.

«Give me a break, I haven't finished yet!» snapped Pitch, exasperated.

Turning to have his back on his annoying partner he took a deep breath and gazed himself: obviously he couldn't show himself in North's Palace dressed like this, with the robe closed only the waist and the abdomen bare, but he didn't want to give up a dress he had always found comfortable and elegant and which he had been so used; reluctantly he pulled together the two garment's hems, from the navel to the foot in a single piece of fabric, making sure to cover his nakedness, and, realizing that the clothes would have hampered his movements, he opened two side slits, from the ankles almost to the hips.

He took a few seconds to analyse the result achieved and, finally, with a smirk, he was satisfied: the dress was elegant and provocative just as he wished, the plackets, thanks to some precautions he had had, didn't undermine his manly appearance and, above all, his beloved neckline was still in its place, deep and seductive just right.

«What an inventiveness, Pitch! I like how you've changed your robe: it suits you well. You could wear it in this way sometimes, you know?» complimented him Jack.

«If you like it so much we could think about it, but now let's hurry to go back» urged him the Boogeyman, deftly deflecting the appreciation in order not to thank.

Nodding, the boy hurried to retrieve his staff from the small cave where the pile of towels now halved laid, then he walked toward the tunnel, turning to invite him following him.

No needing to be asked twice the man followed him, bending his back to avoid the risk of bumping his head into the low ceiling and repressing the desire of running out of that suffocating place as soon as possible in order not to rush to the other: after all, it was understandable that fatigue induced him to proceed slowly.

Soon, however, that pace already hesitant decreased further and Pitch began to worry: Frost was not simply walking slowly, but he was visibly staggering by now, and his legs were shaking to the point he was forced to limp and use his staff for support.

«Jack, stop! What's wrong? You're trembling! Are you feeling sick by any chance?» hastened to ask anxiously the Boogeyman.

With a sigh the boy leaned against the wall, slowly sliding to the ground, then, without looking up, he confessed: «You have won, Pitch: this time I can't walk».

Initially dumbfounded the man froze, torn between the desire to help his love and the perplexity felt in hearing him utter a sentence so cryptic, but soon its meaning became clear: Jack hadn't done anything but admitting his weakness quoting one of his own jokes.

A low and amused laugh rose from the bottom of his throat, impossible to control and too overwhelming to be stifled, and the Boogeyman, now fallen on his knees, burst out: «Oh, did the ardent colt ride for too long to be able to trot for some other steps? Was the ride too intense for his liking? Yet I would have bet I heard him begging just to be straddled a little more!».

«Pitch!» exclaimed the boy in an upset tone, shrinking and hiding his face blushed with shame.

«Isn't the ardent colt able to return to the barn on his feet?» sadistically continued to tease him the man.

Now so embarrassed he struggled to breathe Frost found the strength to turn around, sending him an angry look before immediately replying: «No, the “ardent colt” is too tired to trot again, even just for a little! Why do you always need to make these comments and use those jokes? You're embarrassing me! But, actually, why do I ask this to you? I know that you enjoy it and that you will never change: you are such an egotist! Now that you made me the fool of the day will you hurry to help me or not?».

Finally able to soothe the hilarity and stop laughing Pitch commented: «Oh, Jack, you were the one who taught me that in life everyone should have fun! You cannot get upset if I follow your advice and, anyway, I know that, intimately, you're laughing, even if you don't want to admit it. Since you insist so much I'll and it here and help you: come on, stretch your legs a little, so I can pick you up».

At that suggestion the boy startled and, hugging his legs tightly to prevent him from grasping them, he stated: «Pick me up? Do you wanna hold me in your arms? You're kidding, right? I'm not a girl! You must bring me a piggyback ride».

Floored by the order the Boogeyman opened wide his irises, but, after few seconds, he pulled himself together enough to blurt out: «Jack Frost, cut it out: it is not the time to throw tantrums! Now stretch those legs».

«Not even in your wildest dreams: give me a piggyback ride or leave me here» replied Jack, in a tone that brooked no response.

Gritting his teeth the man tried to hold back his anger, while the strong temptation to act decisively and turn the situation in his favour was trying to get the upper hand; actually he wouldn't have needed much to get what he wanted: it would have been enough to walk away, waiting for the other begging for help and deny it to him until he agreed to be picked up, or even directly grab him and rudely drag him with himself, in case immobilizing him with some tentacles of magic sand, but none of the two perspectives lured him, and, moreover, he was not entirely sure to have enough physical strength to realize them.

He thought for about a minute, his face distorted by anger while weighed the pros and cons of each action: giving in to the other's pressures was not what he was used to, and it would have probably made him feel humiliated, as well as increased the chances that the partner become too spoiled; on the other hand, not giving in in was equally dangerous, because he was not sure he would have been able to win and, in any case, Frost would have given him a hard time for long, and the risk that the other Guardians would have been involved was high.

Growling he stretched his hands forward, going beyond the boy's face and grabbing the staff he held tight, then he barked, his voice trembling with rage: «Hurry up and climb on my back».

Jack immediately raised his head in disbelief, but soon his crystal clear irises lit up with joy and, with a childish smile, he said: «I'll do it immediately!».

Nimbly climbing the boy got on his back, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist, then he rested his face against his neck and whispered: «Thank you, Pitch».

«Do not thank me!» interrupted him Pitch; «This time I gave in only in order not to lose time, but I will won't undergo your whims once more in my life!».

Having finally silenced his interlocutor the Boogeyman stood, moving the left forearm under his knees to prevent him from slipping down, then he headed for the exit. The weight of his passenger, of course, was not a stumbling block for him: Frost was lighter than a feather and the boy knew how to cling to Pitch so as not to tire him; the tunnel's shape, however, didn't eased his walk at all: the ceiling was low and irregular, often interrupted by sharp stalactites or hanging concretions, and it forced him to move continuously to circumvent the danger points, or bend over far more than usual under those projections, for fear that his sweet load could ram them.

Soon, although he was not particularly tired, he found himself huffing and puffing, more and more annoyed by the situation, and the boy, noticing his condition, brought his lips to his ear and whispered: «Oh, don't get upset, puff of sand: soon we will get out and you'll be able walk without difficulty».

Already ready to give him a venomous answer the man opened his mouth, but, suddenly, he froze on the spot, unable to believe his ears.

«Jack, how... how did you just call me?» he asked, in a tone half curious and half shocked.

«“Puff of sand”, you heard right. You know, I know that you call me “snowflake”, or at least you do it to yourself, and I think it's a really sweet name, so I said: “What about choosing one for Pitch?”. It would have been sweet for you, too! But you don't like that name, right? Actually I don't love it, too. How about “shadow Hydra”? I was very impressed by the Hydra's story you told me! But I am not convinced at all: the Hydra has many heads, not many tentacles. Uh, I found it: I'll call you “little dark puff”! What do you think about it? If you prefer one of the other two, of course, tell me» quietly explained Jack.

Once the partner ended his speech Pitch realized he had been holding his breath long enough to feel his own lungs burning, so he forced himself to breathe again, but the act demanded him so much effort and concentration to cause him a pang in the chest: few times in his life he had been so shocked.

How was it possible that the boy had discovered that nickname? How could he had discovered a secret guarded so jealously? He had never pronounced it, he was sure, he had even imposed to himself not to think about it in his presence to prevent his tongue to slip, he was sure, he had been more than careful! But so, how could this have happened? Maybe he had got distracted, or he had involuntarily whispered it in his sleep, during one of those beautiful dreams that, with increasing frequency, entertained his rest? It seemed the only possible explanation, and yet the fact that it hadn't entirely been his own fault didn't console him at all: one of his most intimate secrets had just been discovered, moreover by the person to whom it was referred, revealing how the Boogeyman could be weak and sentimental, and there was no possible solution to this problem. To the series of mushy epithets labelled to him, then, he didn't even know how to begin to answer: it had come like a bolt from the blue, hitting him just when he felt terribly naked and exposed and giving him the coup de grace with the tender quality which attributed to him and which went so bad with his gloomy role.

Overwhelmed by these and many other similar thoughts the man froze on the spot, insensitive to the cramps due to his awkward position and deaf to his partner's calls, but in the end, exerting all the self-control he could muster, he managed to straighten his back. Well aware that he couldn't deny convincingly the fact he had called, at least in his own mind, Frost with the nickname “snowflake” several times, he decided to spare himself the embarrassment and focus on the ones which had been so suddenly proposed to him, so, in a voice angry, he asked: «Does these seem to you appropriate epithets for me!?».

Peering over his shoulder the boy commented: «Pitch, you are impossible! Since you do not like any of my nicknames suggest some of your liking?».

«How about “Sir”, “Master” or “My dark Lord”?» sharply replied Pitch.

Jack immediately burst out laughing, causing him a pleasant tickle down the back, then he whispered: «Oh, Pitch, you never behave out of character, do you? And you're still a huge touchy! Do not worry, if these nicknames embarrass you I will not use them, but know that I feel offended: you give me so many, and I'm not allowed to use any».

The Boogeyman, who, in the attempt to dispel the discomfort and not waste more time, had begun to walk, couldn't help but feel guilty in front of that unfair evidence, so, in order to remedy, he declared: «If you'll find a decent nickname I may allow you to use it».

«“My love” is decent enough for you, Pitch?» gently asked the boy.

«Okay, if you insist! But use it as little as possible, and woe betide you if you let it slip out from your mouth in front of your wacky friends!» warned him the man.

«I promise it!» promptly swore Frost.

Glad to have finally closed the thorny question the man avoided to comment further and, reached the end of the tunnel, he got ready to face the cold outside: recommending the boy to firmly cling at he held him tightly on his straightened back, settled his robe and, after taking a deep breath, he stepped out the protected cave.

The gusts of icy wind attacked him so suddenly and violently that he almost stagger, climbing along his legs and going down his neckline until the cold chills met, causing him goose bumps, but Pitch held tight, advancing at a brisk pace in the storm to reach the North's Palace.

He didn't know the exact location of his destination, but his intuition, combined with the ability to identify tracks and the information sent to him by the Nightmares, was enough to orient himself: after skirting a hidden crevasse he turned left, proceeding until he could glimpse, among the abundant snow falling from the sky, a large boulder, then he swerved to the south, sure the goal was near.

Just when he felt his limbs weakening because of the numbness and the start of frostbite and Jack slipping down his back, a little door peered out the white blanket, and the man, animated by a new hope, sped up the pace.

Harnessing the power of the black sand he opened it, ran inside without even shake off the snow and slammed it behind him, letting out a sigh of relief: quickly finding their way back in the storm had been a stroke of luck, and the fact they had not suffered any damage a true miracle.

Reassured by the tender kiss the boy gave him on the neck as a thank the Boogeyman avoided to overwhelm him with questions about his health and, settling on his half frozen feet with difficulty, he headed for the central hall, remembering the Guardians would have gathered there; now conversant of the Palace's meanders he proceeded effortlessly along the rooms and corridors, nonchalantly ignoring the glances sent by those few Yeti he casually met and growling to the too insistent ones, and when a myriad of small bright lights hurt his eyes he knew he had arrived.

Moving his eyes away the Globe the man reached the soft couch in front of the fire, he knelt to let Frost get down and turned to watch him: his partner, for his part, immediately threw his arms around his neck, planting kiss on his nose and then laughing, but his limbs were noticeably trembling, and soon he had to lean on him for support.

Chuckling Pitch was about to say a joke, but in the end he managed to restrain himself and he simply said: «Do not tire yourself, sweetie, it's not necessary for you to keep standing: lie down on the couch to rest. Since there's no one yet you can close your eyes and get some sleep, if you want to: I will wake you up as soon as someone comes».

Muttering an incomprehensible thank the boy let himself be led to the sofa, resting his head on the arm but leaving his legs dangling, and within seconds he fell asleep.

The Boogeyman, caught by surprise by the sudden collapse, let out a moved smile: he loved that kind of moments. In the first weeks of their relationship the spontaneity with which Jack behaved had often surprised him, making him occasionally feel embarrassed, but little by little he had got used to that sincere and sweet attitude and, slowly coming out of his shell, he had showed he appreciated those instants, welcoming them with joy and, sometimes, even taking part in them. The sight of his little snowflake asleep, then, was a show he couldn't miss: it was amazing how he was able to doze off at any time and in any place; nothing could disturb him, neither the light of the sun on his face, nor a loud noise, nor an uncomfortable bed: he just slept, merely withdrawing with a groan if something bothered him, and the lovely, sulky little face he assumed had induced the man to annoy him for purpose several times.

Worried that the other could fall Pitch stood up, sat down next to him and come to his aid: first he gently grabbed him under the knees, lifting his calves and lying them on his own thighs so that the blood could circulate better and warm them up again; then, with the help of a thin tentacle of darkness, he turned him on his back, settling his arms on his stomach, so that the chest was free to move up and down effortlessly with a pace so quiet and slow to induce sleep; finally, realizing that his face had not followed the rest of the body, he bent over to take it in his hands and rest it on a soft pillow, making sure that the neck was not stretched in an unnatural position.

Glad to have given the boy a comfortable and peaceful nest to rest in the Boogeyman leaned against the backrest, but his restless eyes turned again to his partner, noticing some details out of place which he had not noticed before: trifles, for the most part, but which there was no reason to remedy to.

Pleased to have found a convenient excuse to start to cuddle his love again he straightened his back, gently intertwining his fingers in his hair to remove a thin filament of lichen and comb the strands, even more rebellious than usual, tying the shirt's lace with a bow, smoothing the sleeves and bottom hem so that the skin was well covered and making a double knot, replacing the single one that was already there, at his trousers' close.

He took all the time he needed and even more to complete these tasks, welcoming every little sigh emitted by the partner and allowing himself a few caresses to his silky skin, but, just when he was starting to massage his legs, a shade lighter than the other moved at the corner of his field of view: a detail perhaps imperceptible to most, but impossible not to notice for him, who had always lived in the darkness.

Alarmed he turned and, in a dark corner, he saw at first two twinkling lights pointed at him, then the tall, slim figure to which they belonged, and it didn't take long to him to realize who he was.

Rising proudly in all his height Bunnymund walked in the light of the fire, the muzzle twisted into an expression of absolute disgust and his eyes narrowed, dripping with contempt: evidently he had witnessed all the sweet cuddles and he had not been touched by them at all.

Used to get every detail Pitch immediately noticed that the Guardian, although seemingly calm, had his ears menacingly raised and the paws, ready to leap, in the attack position, and he was amused by this: that aggressive attitude in front of some banal caresses was so exaggerated it seemed excessive even to him, who had almost never regretted his violent behaviour, and it would not have done nothing but backfire on the Pooka himself.

While he imagined the umpteenth reproaches which North, Toothiana and Sandy would have certainly addressed to the Easter Bunny, if only they could have witnessed the scene, a possible explanation to that attitude so hostile flashed through his mind, along with a wicked idea to unmask it: a trick perfectly consistent with his Boogeyman's role, a hit below the belt which, no doubt, would have left the annoying enemy so angry and upset to induce him to betray himself on his own.

Bending his lips into a smile both mischievous and sarcastic the man leaned limply against the back of the sofa and began to massage Jack's legs to relax him, then, nonchalantly, he slid his fingers on his thighs, stroking the inside on a sensitive spot he knew and stealing him a soft moan.

It was with great pleasure that he saw Bunnymund startling at first, surprised by the unexpected sound, and then baring his teeth into a silent snarl, and with overwhelming expectation that he got ready to go on: the other had not the slightest idea of the tremendous mistake he had done by going against him, and he would have paid for the consequences, all the way till the end.

 

 

 

¹ Because of a common saying which cannot be translated in English in this part I changed the original sentences: I'm satisfied with the result, cause I managed not to change the scene and use a visual detail to create a funny joke, but I'd like to explain you the original dialogue.

In short, in Italian the sentence “mettere le corna a qualcuno” (literally “putting the horns on somebody”) means “cheating on somebody”, so, after discovering the two horns on his head, this was the conversation:

Pitch - Are you cheating on me, Jack?

Jack - No, why do you ask me something like this? Don't you trust me? And why do you ask it now?

Pitch - Oh, no, Jack, don't worry: I was only joking. “Putting the horns on somebody” means “cheating on somebody”: that's why I asked you that question. I know you would never cheat on me: I trust you. Now, what about finish the bath and get ready?

Then the translation continues like the original fanfiction.

I pointed out this only because I wanted to emphasize the fact that Pitch trusts Jack a lot and, moreover, he's willing to teach him everything he doesn't know. You will understand better in chapter 30

 

 

 

New fanart by Fridarush!  
  
<http://fridarush.tumblr.com/post/94319946912/a-fanart-from-the-ff-what-goes-together-better>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since my friend is busy the next chapter will be published on Thursday, in the meanwhile I'll make sure to translate as many pages as I can, in order not to slow down too much when my exams start ^^ feel free to ask me whatever you want, here or on tumblr, it's the same for me!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day early ;) I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 28**

 

 

As soon as Jack groan reached Bunnymund's quivering ears the rabbit bared his teeth in a snarl and, with an angry voice, he blurted out: «What the heck are you..».

Pressing his index finger on his own lips Pitch interrupted him, bending them into an amused grin amused when he saw the other obediently fall silent to that gesture, then he whispered: «Shh, Bunnymund, don't you see that Jack is tired? You don't want to wake him, do you?».

Piqued by the reproach, but unable to respond in kind, the Pooka clenched his fists, his eyes narrowed menacingly, then he hissed: «Come here to talk, if you're brave enough».

With a laugh so low it made the air vibrate in his lungs the Boogeyman soothe the hilarity due to such a childish provocation, so he allowed himself the whim to get even: lurking on the couch while he stretched out his legs he let the right hand lingering on Frost's thigh, sensually stroking it until he stole him a last sigh, and only when he was sure that the Pooka had distinctly heard it he got ready to accept the invitation.

Satisfied with the moan got he slid his forearms under his partner's calves, lifted them just enough to be able to slip away and then they laid them softly on the pillows, proceeding with caution so as not to wake him up and taking all the time he thought it was necessary, and even more, to accomplish the task: such a beautiful chance to psychologically defeat his opponent was one of a kind, and it was opportune to take advantage of it whole hog in order to succeed in his plan.

Sure he had pushed his luck far enough he stood up, calmly advancing until he reached the other and, albeit struggling to hold back the joy he felt in seeing how much disapproval filled his eyes, he asked in a bored voice: «Well, what's wrong?».

«What did you do to him?» attacked him the Easter Bunny.

«Oh, believe me, nothing he didn't appreciate» answered the man with a sadistic smile.

Bristling Bunnymund winced, then he menacingly lent his muzzle forward until it was almost in contact with the Boogeyman's nose and, with a disgusted tone, he asked: «How can you even dare to think about that kind of perversions, moreover here, in the house which belongs to the man who generously saved you? We should have let you die in that clearing, monster! How long will you take advantage of Jack's naivety? How long do you hope he'll remain innocent enough to let you torture him? Don't you think you can continue this game forever!».

Snorting Pitch commented, annoyed: «I didn't expect you could be deaf with that huge ears of yours. Don't you hear me before? I did nothing he has not appreciated. I didn't need to force him, he himself came to me, like all the other times, for that matter: he is not as innocent as you imagine. He knows what he wants and he doesn't hesitate to ask, whatever the circumstance and place are... oh, look there: he's doing it right now. Do you hear him calling me? I can't deny him an answer: I would never want him to suffer for my absence».

Turning to have his back on the Guardian the Boogeyman walked towards his love, who, probably disturbed by the conversation and the sudden lack of warmth and pampering, had initially stirred in his sleep, then he had softly whispered his name, stretching out an arm over the pillows to seek him: all actions perfectly suited to the trick the man was preparing for his harassing enemy, and done with such a timing they seem concocted.

Pleased by that turn, as unexpected as appropriate, Pitch didn't hesitate and knelt beside the boy, intent to reward him for his involuntary support: first he made sure to let him feel his presence, placing his right cheek against his shoulder and holding him in a gentle embrace; perceiving his pulse slowing down he rubbed his left palm on his chest, caressing him several times to calm him as better as he could and make him crouch, in a position which would have allowed him feel less alone and exposed; finally, quivering with anticipation, he touched with fingers light as a feather his lips, redrawing their outline and letting out a sigh when they parted, wetting his fingertips.

Oh, how much he would have wanted to stay there with the boy until he had waken up, losing himself in cuddling him and gaze his angelic face, watching over his soul to make it feel protected and, at the same time, appropriating it with his eyes and heart! But the bothering viewer would have undoubtedly impeded him from doing it: the Pooka would have probably intervened to stop him, and, even if he had refrained himself from doing such an uncouth act, his mere presence was a source of discomfort that prevented Pitch from enjoying that moment in peace. It was time to fix that nuisance, definitely driving him away in order to remove the last, pathetic obstacle between himself and Jack: it was time to put an end to those silly squabbles which he had been forced to participate to in the previous days, silencing him once and for all.

While he was still hesitating about the idea of leaving his sweet snowflake just when he seemed to want so much his company, a great thought occurred to him: a perfect jab before the coup de grace, which would have left Bunnymund so enraged to guarantee him the success of the plan.

Without further ado he moved up to bend over his partner's ear, then, with a tone as mellifluous as possessive, he murmured: «Oh, don't stir, my baby, I'm with you and I will always be there. Do you remember? You are mine, mine, and mine only: you'll belong to me forever, and will never leave you alone».

Touched and pleased by the grumbling, satisfied moan Frost let out after that sentence Pitch stood up and, turning to the Easter Bunny, he found him exactly in the condition he hoped to see: angry, disgusted, ready to attack, but also sad and lost.

Perhaps trying to cover up the confusion which had caught him the Guardian pricked up his ears and snapped: «Jack doesn't belong to you!».

The Boogeyman, however, didn't let him distract him and, with a provocative expression, he whispered: «Bunnymund, am I wrong or what you feel is not purely and simply anger? Honestly, I think that you get too much upset for the way I treat Jack: I never overstepped the bounds of decency in public, what I do in private is only my and Jack's business and, moreover, none of the other Guardians has ever complained about anything. Have you realized you're the only one who blames me? I understand that you may not approve our relationship, but your opposition is excessive and your criticism often unwarranted: even your friends noticed it. Why all this ardour in the hatred you feel for me? Are you becoming sentimental, Bunnymund? Are you _jealous_?».

At that last word, uttered with particular incisiveness, Bunnymund opened wide his eyes, clearly showing the panic which had gripped him and making himself as small as possible, as to want to hide himself from that accusation. The man immediately took the opportunity to make it worse, stepping to reach him and commenting: «Oh, but look here: what a strange reaction you had! Did I hit the nail on the head? Since you look guilty, it seems so! But, after all, I perfectly understand you: having the privilege of owning Jack's heart and body is an immeasurable pleasure. I bet you've already tried to imagine how would have been, for you, to be in my place, but your dreams can only be a pale imitation of reality: you don't know Jack, and you'll never know him. You have no idea how smooth and soft his skin is, you could never caress it up to be able to redraw by memory all its forms and folds, you'll never know how it can become hot. And Jack, oh, Jack is an absolutely perfect partner! It helps me at every opportunity, with an alacrity that even my Nightmares never show, he always look for me and always celebrates for our encounters, and, in the end, he always gives himself to me, with such a malice and a self-confidence to suggest he was born only and entirely for that. You'd like to be able to have him, at least once, wouldn't you? Watching him slowly undressing in front of you, feeling his slender hands searching you and courting your every muscle, looking at him while he opens his legs to ask for satisfaction, moaning uncontrollably as he begs for more and...».

Pitch never managed to conclude that climax beautifully conceived, because a sudden mental confusion caught him: a moment before he was standing in front of the Pooka, staring at him and provoking him, and a moment later his view failed and, along with it, also the sense of space and time. Blinking he managed to partially dispel the black curtain which had fallen over his eyes and, in front of him, he spotted a long and honey-coloured object: what was it? Was it a beam? Or a stick? And how could it stand horizontally in front of his irises without falling? Maybe was it able to float in the air, just as he himself was doing in this moment?

In a vain attempt to awaken his clouded mind the Boogeyman weakly shook his head and, at that simple gesture, all the feelings that had been temporarily numbed returned back, more vivid and prickly than ever: a bright light hit his pupils, the intense smell of wood and ash filled his nostrils, a metallic taste invaded his mouth and a sharp pain struck his back and face.

Inhaling deeply to metabolize those perceptions so sudden and make them subside, he focused one particular at a time, to try to understand the situation without tiring himself: first he stared at the light which had almost blinded him, noticing only in this moment its orange shade and its irregular variations of intensity and identifying it, then, with the hearth's fire; then he let his nostrils being pervaded by the resinous scent which had enveloped him, recognizing in it the hint of carved spruce and realizing he was near to a stool of that material, and he remembered he was next to the couch; finally, while he hardly stretched his muscles to recover, he perceived a hard, flat surface continuously pressing against his collarbone and the coccyx, accompanied by a feeling of growing cold, and he understood he was lying on the floor.

Now perfectly awake Pitch took a little to reconstruct what had happened and interpret the latest evidence he had collected: Bunnymund, exasperated by the provocations, had hit him in the face, so brutally to cut his lip, and so quickly to catch him off guard and throw him on the planking, leaving him half unconscious.

Clinging to the chair to have a support the Boogeyman returned with his back straightened and, as soon as he brought his right hand to his mouth to massage it, he realized that the wound was much more extended than he had thought at first: all the teeth of the two left arches were damaged, some just cracked, others completely uprooted, and their fragments were cutting his palate, adding new blood to the already abundant he had just lost. Sensing the flow increase to the point it was trickling down the chin he moved to remedy: at first he gathered with his tongue the bigger splinters of bone, he spat them and hastened to throw them into the fire, in order not to stain the floor; then he swallowed the rest of the fluid with a sadistic smile, ignoring the painful scratches which the forgotten sliver caused to his throat: he had won.

A laugh insane and impossible to stop rose from the bottom of his lungs, gurgling in the blood that still dripped and barely breaking free from his cleft lips, while almost the entire back and shoulders were shaking for the hilarity: he had won on that fool Pooka he hated so much and who hated him so much, teasing him until he had enraged and subtly guiding him towards a wrongdoing for which there could be no forgiveness.

Licking his teeth and torn flesh with a smug expression he congratulated himself: despite the illness and the convalescence yet in progress he had not lost his sheen and he had managed to cleverly deceive the interlocutor, making him to betray himself in a way even more serious and blatant than he had dared to plan. What would have the Guardians said once they had entered the hall and seen the scene? It was not hard to guess who they would have believed right and who wrong: the cuts and bruises on his face were an evidence so clear of who had been the victim and who the torturer. He didn't know what would have happened to the Easter Bunny, if he would have been condemned to exile or simply received a punishment or a warning, but, no doubt, after a similar gesture, no one would have trusted him more: the Boogeyman had won the war, and a humiliating peace was coming for the loser.

Just as he was preparing to clamp down his imagination and recompose himself to end the play, a rustling noise caught his attention, followed by hurried footsteps, and, assuming that the Guardian was rushing to make matters worse, Pitch crouched against the couch, raising an arm to defend himself; actually he was not afraid of him, nor of the punches and kicks which he could give him and which would have done nothing but confirm how unfair and tyrannical his absurd beliefs had turned him, but he wanted to avoid suffering serious wound: his teeth were almost completely grown back, but a broken bone would have certainly required more care, and he didn't want to beg for help again and make Jack worry for him.

The scene he peeked at from under his arm, however, disappointed any supposition: the one who had strode forward had been the boy, and, before he could blame himself because he had disturbed his sleep and wonder what he was doing, the man saw him brandish the staff with both hands, raise it above his head and then lowered it onto Bunnymund.

A bright light came out from the middle of the stick, accompanied by a sharp, crackling noise, and, for a moment, it lit up the room so violently to make it look completely white; blinded by it Pitch was forced to shield his irises with his palm, blinking to make the sparkling spot impressed on his retina fade away and shivering at the icy wind which suddenly struck him, but, in spite of the confusion, he distinctly heard the faint thud after which everything returned back to normal.

The Pooka should certainly be somewhere nearby, aching from the blow and with his nose covered in blood, but the Boogeyman would have never noticed him, not even if he had found him in his arms: in front of him, lying on the ground, there was his sweet snowflake, motionless as he had been during the Christmas Eve's night, and that image was so terrible it made him blind to any other particular.

A wave of panic pervaded him, gripping his chest and throat and bringing him to the brink of panic: he had sworn to himself he would have never put in danger his partner's life, and he had failed. It didn't matter the fact that Frost had acted in complete autonomy, intervening in an unexpected way: the man should have foreseen that, because of the uproar, Jack would have waken up and come to his defence, and act accordingly. Provoking the Easter Bunny up to that point had been a folly, a whim he had wanted to allow himself, as cruel as unnecessary: there were dozens of other civil and safer ways to stop the complaints which annoyed him so much, from constructive discussions to simply ignoring him, but he had been too selfish to think about resorting them.

Crying over spilt milk, however, was useless, so he gathered his strength and, a little plodding and a little dragging himself, he reached the boy; without wasting any more time he hold him him, placing his lips on his forehead and sliding two fingers on his carotid, and finally he let out a sigh of relief: his temperature was slightly lower than usual, but similar oscillations were normal, and the pulse was perfectly regular.

While he was about to assist him a faint buzz came down from the hall's ceiling, growing more and more as it approached, and a shrill and worried voice cried: «For all the teeth, what happened here!? Pitch, is Jack wounded?».

Raising his eyes towards Toothiana Pitch answered: «Fortunately he's fine. He's not awake, but pulse and temperature are normal, and he didn't harmed himself. He fainted probably because of the blow: his staff is not broken, but there are many splinters around here and, if it is damaged, certainly Jack has been weakened».

«Oh, what a relief!» exclaimed the fairy, bringing the left palm to her heart, then she went on: «Come on, lay him on the couch: resting a little will help him recover».

Nodding the Boogeyman slid his left forearm under Jack's back and the right one under his knees, then he stood up and lifted him carefully; he allowed himself a moment to settle better on his feet and focus his blurred vision, then he walked over the couch and, as gently as he could, he laid his love on the pillows, taking care to place him in a position which couldn't cause him cramps.

«Very well, Pitch. Now that Jack is safe there's an important question we must solve» stated Toothiana, in a tone which brooked no argument.

Even before he could become suspicious about her sudden change of attitude the man felt himself being firmly grasped by the ear and dragged away, with such a vim to floor him and prevent him from reacting: it seemed to him he had been grabbed by a steel pincer, oppressive in its tight grip and terribly sharp, and any involuntary movement which fell outside the docile following it caused him twinges of pain. Just when he managed to recover from the amazement which had struck him and began to set up a first, weak defence, a yelp reached his ears, followed by soundly protests and creeping noises, and Pitch realized that Bunnymund was suffering the same fate, but he ignored him: he had not the slightest interest in the Pooka, especially at that time, and the only thing he wanted was breaking free and going back to his love.

«Toothiana, what the hell are you doing!?» he roared.

«Oh, no, do not try to deceive me: I saw the whole scene from a distance! You have both behaved live savages, and you've acted so childish to seem more immature than a five years old baby! It 's time to cool down your hot tempers» upbraided them the Fairy Teeth.

Yanking them more violently than before she silenced them and led them into a narrow corridor, then, deftly using a foot, she opened a small door and, one after the other, she threw them into the snow; wiping her hands to allow them plenty of time to recover the woman waited for them to turn, then she finally concluded: «North is not back yet, but I know for certain he would not tolerate uncivil guests in his house, so you will remain here until you have clarified your problems and ironed out your disagreements. Is that clear? I wish you a good conversation, and woe to you if you fight again!».

The thud of the wood slammed and closed with the bar came muffled to Pitch's ears, not much because of the wind that roared around him and the snow which stifled all the sounds, but because of the disbelief he felt: he had been insulted, beaten, his had fallen lifeless on the ground, and Toothiana hadn't found anything better to do than throwing him out of the Palace? He was the King of Nightmares, the Lord of Darkness, not a pathetic child who needed to be educated! He deserved only respect and no one should dare to treat him in that way! But, above all, no one should dare to separate him from Jack, moreover if the boy was sick: he had sworn to himself to protect him, monitor his health and make sure he felt good and happy, and deny him his sight in a moment like this caused a rage far greater than the one which had gripped him when he had been defeated by the Guardians.

Blinded by anger he advanced, rudely pushing away Bunnymund who, sore and resigned, was crouched in the blanket and rubbing his muzzle, he reached the door and, violently knocking, he boomed: «Toothiana, open this door immediately!».

Hearing no response he knocked again, then he beat his fists on the wood, overtopping the noise of the blows and the hinge's creaks with the increasingly angry tone of his voice, but nothing changed; however, exactly when, outraged, he was getting ready to kick it down, he perceived a soft sound coming from the inside and he calmed down.

After few seconds the entrance was opened up and the head of the fairy peeped out from the split.

«Finally!» exclaimed together the Boogeyman and the Pooka.

«No, no, guys, do not get excited: I didn't come to allow you in. I just wanted to warn you about two things. Pitch, first of all I want to tell you that Jack feels good: he had recovered; for now he's resting on the couch, but soon he will repair the stuff. You have no reason to worry, so simply think to remedy your mistakes. Bunnymund, know that I'll consider you responsible if Pitch get sick or his feet freeze, so make sure to do something to avoid it. I wish again to both of you a fruitful conversation» said the fairy.

Suddenly moving back her head she closed the access, sealing it from the inside so fast that the man couldn't even think to stop her, and, for the second time, he found himself on the wrong side of the door: by now the situation, as well as inadmissible, was becoming ridiculous.

Growling attacked he attacked the wood with a right and a hook, ignoring the splinters which penetrated in his knuckles, and the Pooka, exasperated, snapped: «It's useless calling her back, she will never open the door! When Tooth decides something there's no way to change her mind: she'll leave us out here».

«We'll see who wins!» replied the Boogeyman, without even turning around to look at him.

Soon, however, he understood that violence was not the solution: Toothiana hadn't given sign she could change her mind, and he would have needed hours to break down a door so solid and hardened by time; however, where brute force failed, shrewdness would have certainly been successful.

Resting his forehead against the hated barrier to concentrate he summoned a tentacle of magic sand, sinuous enough to control its every movement and thin enough to creep into the crack between the ground and the door, then he acted: driving it cleverly he managed to go beyond the obstacle and reach the bar which blocked the access, but when he tried to lift it he failed. Frustrated he tried again, again, again and again, but that dark coil was too thin to be able to move such a weight; digging his nails in the jambs he made more power flow into the black sand to swell it, but the thick tentacle didn't manage to pass through the door's slit; now desperate he attempted to multiply the coils, to make up for the weakness with the number, but at that point his strength left him and, now exhausted, he fell to the ground.

An uncontrollable tremor caught him, shaking his shoulders and limbs, but only when he began to teeth chattering he realized what was the cause of all this: the temperature of his body was going down fast, and on his hand and feet's tips a starting of frostbite was already well visible. Foolishly, caught by a mixture of anger, outrage and concern which he still couldn't quell in his mind, he had not noticed the cold, but, in hindsight, he understood that he should have protected himself from it: the convalescent still in progress and the eventful day hadn't left a lot of energy reserves and, remaining exposed to the weather, he had finally finished them.

Crawling with difficulty towards the door he crouched against it, in an attempt to escape the cold, but this circumvent all his defences, crawling from the soles, going down the plunging neckline, penetrating through his robe's side slits and attacking him in every way, until he couldn't even keep curled.

Now so dizzy he could only glimpse a hazy whiteness around him he let his legs sink into the snow and his arms to slip to the ground, wide open in the final surrender: there was no way to cross that door.

A shadow of regret fell on him, causing him to feel a clear sense of guilt: he had been a real idiot to provoke Bunnymund in that way. It didn't matter that the Pooka had annoyed him beyond bearing, that he had been unfriendly and rude with him, because none of this was a sufficient excuse: incivility did never justify incivility, in no case, and by infringing this principle he had done nothing but ending up being wrong. He had no doubt he had been right from the beginning, of course, and letting himself being insulted without responding in kind or taking revenge was not a behaviour congenial to him, but when he had given in to his own instincts he had forgotten one thing: Jack came before everything, even before his Boogeyman's role. Since the boy was his partner he was personally involved in the matter, so it was natural that he would have been touched: the man would have had to hold himself back, thinking of his love, in order to protect him from the consequences of childish and dangerous attitudes and show him he was really willing to change, at least in part, for him. With that selfish act, instead, he had not only missed an opportunity to implicitly prove his love, but he had also exposed the boy to a danger, and he couldn't forgive himself for this. Although in the past Frost had recovered very well from the break of his staff and Toothiana had assured him he was fine, Pitch couldn't dispel his concerns: only by seeing him healthy with his own eyes he would have been able to calm down, but, by now, he was not allowed to do it; the only small consolation he had was the fact he was sure that the boy was in a safe and warm place, attended by the best nurse he had ever known.

Sighing one last time the Boogeyman bent his lips into a little smile at the memory of all those moments spent together with the fairy, her generosity and her always timely complicity, but the frost soon overwhelmed him and those recollection slipped again into the recesses of his mind: thinking in a similar circumstance was too tiring.

Just when sleepiness began to weigh on his eyelids, causing him to lower them, something warm and soft grabbed him, grasping him by the shoulders and wrapping his chest into a velvety warmth; still too weak the man let himself be taken without fighting, keeping his eyes half closed and settling into the embrace: when, in the past, had he found himself in a similar situation? Where had he perceived that soft warmth and the intense scent of chlorophyll and flowers?

He stubbornly tried to think, albeit disturbed by the constant tremors of the entity he had not identified yet, but after less than a minute he had to surrender: he was too tired, too worn out to fight, and yielding into the sweet temptation seemed the right thing to do. Why on earth shouldn't he doze off and get some rest? He was not going to sleep for a long time, just for a moment, then, no doubt, he would have been able to wake up and solve the riddle, he was sure.

With a smile he slid into oblivion, but he didn't even have time to relax the muscles that something intervened: that mysterious creature yanked him up, pulling him off the mental darkness in which he was falling, and, without further ado, it dragged him in a physical one much more tangible and frightening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you like to help me translating one single word? Check my tumblr! I would be glad to receive your help. Next chapter will be published on Sunday! Feel free to leave a comment or ask me anything, here or on tumblr, it's the same for me


	29. Chapter 29

 

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 29**

 

A wave of panic overwhelmed Pitch when he felt himself being carried away: he didn't expect to be pulled so suddenly, and the fact he had been forcibly awakened from a muffled numbness had increased even more his astonishment. He had not yet guessed the identity of the creature which had abducted him, but what was happening presaged nothing good: the entity, in fact, had drastically changed its loving attitude, clenching tight around his chest to the point it took off his breath and not hesitating digging its nails in his side in order not to lose its grip, and the speed with which he moved suggested a physique to which was hard to resist.

Despite the remarkable self-control which, in his long existence, he had learned to employ, the man couldn't help but being gripped in anxiety: the tunnel in which they were travellingwas dark, narrow, suffocating because of the humidity and the heat which oozed from the walls and awfully similar to the one which led to Behemuth's prison. It didn't matter that he had always been living in the darkness and often using such places to hide and do his job: going into them on his own free will was very different from being forced; he remembered well the sheer terror he had felt when the Purebloods had attacked him, clinging to his body and dragging him with them, away from light, deeper and deeper, to trap him and tear him apart, ripping his clothes and hope, and he didn't want to repeat the experience.

Certain that soon the monsters would have flocked to torture his flesh with their teeth, the Boogeyman tried to struggle, clinging with the strength born of desperation to the arm which had grabbed him and digging his feet into the ground, but he didn't manage to: his trembling fingers couldn't grip on that forearm, soft but strong, and the soles slipped on the compact soil without slowing down the creature.

Just when the panic and claustrophobia grew to the point they were driving him crazy the long tunnel ended and the mysterious abductor leapt out of it, finally freeing the man and throwing him on the ground; the Bogeyman, dazed and blinded by the sudden light, rolled away without even trying to slow down his motion, thanking the soft grass which cushioned every blow and finally stopping against a clod, where he lay a little, waiting to recover.

When, finally opening his eyes, he managed to focus on the surrounding landscape, he turned around, looking for the being which had brought him there and raising his arms in the guard position: since he was still laying on the lawn he couldn't even hope to be able to frighten his aggressor, nor to successfully defend himself on the chance of a brutal attack, but he didn't want to give up from the beginning.

However, in front of him, instead of a fearsome beast or an unknown enemy, he found Bunnymund himself, intent on preening his fur, the muzzle stubbornly turned to one side, and he couldn't help but opening wide his irises in amazement.

«Bunnymund? Was it you the one who brought me here?» he asked hesitantly.

«Yes, who else?» snapped the Pooka, shaking his fur.

Puzzled Pitch looked around to familiarize with his surroundings: the lawn where he laid was nothing but a small flowery clearing, surrounded by mossy rocks and vines stretched from one to the other to form a green canopy; in addition to the classic perfume of pollen, damp earth and undergrowth which he expected, however, he could perceive other smells: depending on how he inclined his head he could recognize the scent of sulphur, alcohol, the dry one of the clay and the metallic one of the iron.

Although he had already guessed where he had been brought he preferred to have a confirmation and, while he was standing up, he asked: «This is your warren, right? Why did you bring me here?».

«Yes, it's my warren. Don't get any weird ideas: I brought you here because you were freezing» answered the Easter bunny.

Surprised by the response and embarrassed by the rescue the Boogeyman commented: «Well, I never asked you for help, so you could have hold yourself back!».

«Oh, you're welcome, Pitch, my pleasure! Know that, if it had been up to me, I would have left you out the door freezing! The only reason why I brought you here was Tooth's threat, so don't get any weird ideas!» vehemently pointed out Bunnymund.

«Oh, poor little bunny, are you afraid of the Fairy Teeth? Anyway, why have you repeated twice "don't get any weird ideas"? What did you mean? Should I infer that you're not jealous of Jack, but me?» taunted him the man, winking.

«Come on, give me a break! You disgust me, and I'm disgusted by what you do! I do not think about that things, I totally can't! I'm not insane like you» retorted the Pooka.

«Oh, sorry, Bunnymund, I didn't guess you had performance issues. Do you lack the equipment or the ability?» insinuated Pitch.

The Easter Bunny was so surprised by the point blank question that, for few seconds, he couldn't even breathe; he stood still, gasping and with eyes wide open, but, as soon as he managed to pull himself together, he addressed a deadly look to him and crouched down on the ground.

The Boogeyman immediately realized what the other wanted to do, but he had no way to resist him: struggling to follow him with his eyes he saw him swelling the muscles and leap forward, then hit him with a brutal blow to the chest, powerful enough to hurl him back for several yards. Albeit with difficulty the Boogeyman managed to drop to his knees, instead of crumpling sprawled on the grass, but it was useless: before he could catch his breath a strong kick hit him in the back, causing him to slam his face against a rock and loose his sight.

Suddenly his ears began to ring, making him deaf to any sound and preventing him from hearing the antagonist approaching, but, as soon as he felt an arm grabbing him, he sensed in what position he was and acted: twirling the trapped limb he managed to return the grip, then, loosening it just enough, he freed his own power, evoking the dark tentacles from his palm and allowing them to expand.

In few moments the Easter Bunny was completely wrapped in the coils of sand and, despite his fierce struggle, he couldn't free himself: from every tie he tore others were born, more and more numerous and strong, and when only his head was visible they tightened around his body, finally blocking him and making him stumble on the lawn.

Rubbing his cheek the man stood up, throwing only a quick glance at his victim who was still writhing on the grass, then he turned to give his back to him: actually the temptation to beat him again was strong in him, but at that moment he had other priorities to think about.

Focusing to identify every detail of the landscape Pitch made his eyes wander in search of clues to go back to the North Pole, ignoring Bunnymund's initial complaints and then his obstinate silence, but he couldn't find anything useful. Frowning he started walking, heading for the rocks surrounding to gain a high position and reach a better view, but a voice called him back.

«Pitch...? What are you doing? Why don't you attack me?» asked the Pooka, dumbfounded.

«I have no interest in you at this moment: the only thing I want is going back to the North Pole to see how Jack is, so shut up and let me find the tunnel in peace» answered the Boogeyman without interrupting his research.

At that explanation the Easter Bunny lowered his ears, perhaps partially regretful of his actions, or maybe simply amazed, and then he informed him: «It's useless for you to seek it, Pitch: I closed it, as usual».

«Well, then reopen it! My Nightmares would take a while to arrive and I do not want to waste time!» snapped the man.

«It would be useless anyway! You have not yet realized that Tooth was serious? She will understand immediately we have not talked and, even if it were not so, we would betray ourselves in few minutes! Do you want to be grasped by the ears and kicked out again? And do not even try for a moment to think about getting in by force! North and Tooth saved your life, you cannot stab them in the back».

«Shut up!» silenced him Pitch.

For few seconds he continued to wander, looking around to find a way out, but soon he calmed down and sit on a rock: his interlocutor was right on all fronts. Toothiana had always showed excellent intuition skills, to the point that, probably, not even a temporary peace would have managed to deceive her, and showing up at the Palace's door alone would have made suspicious even an elf about what could have happened even. Entering by force was equally out of the question: he was not sure to have enough energy to do it, he didn't know how many Yetis would have intervened to stop him, he had no place to run later, since he had not yet checked if his lair was safe or not, and, above all, Jack would have never forgiven him. The fact that such a stance was ungrateful towards his rescuers, instead, didn't concerned him: it didn't matter what they had done for him, he had never asked them for help, and, anyway, this didn't authorized them to come between him and the boy; on this thought, however, he didn't lingered for a long time: at the idea of the treason a strange sense of unease had caught him, and, not knowing how to handle it, he preferred to overlook.

«I suppose, then, that we will necessarily have to talk. So be it, but hurry» finally conceded the Boogeyman.

«Talk? Does this look a good starting point to talk for you!? You remain there, sitting with your usual air of superiority, too haughty even to be able to look at me while I'm here on the ground, tied, moreover in my warren?» incredulously exclaimed Bunnymund.

«Oh, come on, you have so many claims!» snapped the man, visibly annoyed; «Would you like also a comfortable chair, a good cup of tea and some cake, by any chance?».

«I would like to be able to breathe and stretch my legs, if it is not too much trouble!».

Puffing and raising his eyes to the sky Pitch hesitated, but eventually he gave in and, with a snap of his fingers, he took away the dark ties; as soon as he saw the other massaging his feet, however, he hastened to add: «Just attempt to attack me again, to hurt me or deceive me in any way, and I'll make those laces reappear around your neck».

«You just have to try it!» retorted the Pooka.

Crossing his arms the Boogeyman turned to have his back on him, staring stubbornly at the landscape and taking the opportunity to catch every detail and identify the Warren's weak points, but keeping an eye out in order not to miss a word or a move; after some initial muffled noises, however, he heard nothing more: the Easter Bunny seemed to have stretched, raised, sat and settled down on the grass, and then blocked for no reason.

Reached the limit of his already little patience the man clenched his fists and, determined to end the conversation as quickly as possible, he burst out: «What's wrong with you? Maybe did the cat got your tongue? I've freed you, I thought it was what you wanted to talk comfortably!».

«I know, I know!» tergiversated the Guardian in a state; «Let me just find the words... and then, damn it, you've freed me a little while ago, and you stand there on your own, how do you think I can speak in these conditions?».

Pitch turned furious, ready to sharply reply at him, but the answer died out in his throat as soon as he spotted the other: actually he expect to find him combative, fiercely straight and poised to attack, but what he faced was a clumsy enemy, crouched on the ground and intent to rub his paws together just to keep them busy.

The surprise, however, was soon replaced by disgust: how could that fool dare to make fun of him in that way? He was the one who had started, who had continued, who had asked him to talk, and what was the result? A useless and embarrassing silence? A hesitant behaviour so pathetic to be worthy of a schoolgirl on her first day of class? It was unacceptable and Pitch would have never tolerated it!

«You're more pathetic than a schoolgirl on her first day of class!» attacked him the Boogeyman; «I don't have all the time in the world, you know? Are you really unable to find the right words? Never mind: I'll talk to you. So, the problem is that you are jealous of Jack, is not it? You cannot stand the fact that he passes a lot of time with me, even that he talks to me, and you would like to be in my place. To the first question you should resign yourself immediately: I will never let him go, and he will never be able to abandon me, so accept the fact that I'll always be around if you want to see him. About the second question, well, what should I say? There's no solution for it, too. Assuming that Jack desires you, too, and it is not so, it doesn't matter: I do not divide my property with anyone. Did you hope we could meet him on alternate day? Or that he could spend the day with you and the night with me? Or maybe even that we could share him at the same time? You have already prepared a triple bed by any chance? Are you willing to ask him, after every intercourse, who of us had been the best? And then...».

«For all the eggs, shut the fuck up!» cried Bunnymund.

The man was not used to let anybody interrupt him at all, nor to obey to others' orders, nor to accept an objection without batting an eyelid, but at that moment he didn't think even for a moment to react: that desperate scream had frozen the blood in his veins. He would have never imagined that the series of provocation would have provoked a similar reaction, but, evidently, the Pooka was much more involved than Pitch had imagined: there was no other explanation to justify the way in which he had lost control, going so far to tremble with rage and cover his muzzle with his paws to hide the pain.

Pitch waited patiently, without intervening neither to help nor to punish him, taking advantage of the little break to develop a ready answer to give to Bunnymund if he had officially admitted he wanting to replace him as Jack's lover, and, just when he managed to mentally complete a concise and incisive speech, the Easter bunny calmed down and began to speak.

«You could have won Jack's heart, Pitch, but always remain an emeritus idiot when it comes to understand feelings. Do you really believe that I am jealous of you and Jack? That I feel attracted to him and I can't wait to declare my love? I cannot believe you could have really thought it! Or maybe I can, considered how much possession you've showed so far: the only one of us who's jealous is you».

The Boogeyman laughed and asked: «Oh, really? Aren't you jealous? Don't you envy me, even a little? So tell me, bunny, how is it possible that you've always come between us? How is it possible that every time you found me in front of you you've always insulted and despised me? Why did you always do your best to keep me away from Jack? Not to mention your two most dramatic scenes: the first in North's hall when the Pureblood came in, and the second one right just before Toothiana kicked us out. Oh, sure, there is a third one you did few minutes ago. Don't you call it jealousy?».

«No, you idiot, I call it concern!» snapped Bunnymund.

The man snorted, but the Pooka looked him straight in the eyes and continued: «You have misinterpreted all my action, Pitch, and, obsessed with control, you have distorted every sign, but I admit that I've never been clear and direct with you: the fault for all this is partially mine, so now I will remedy my mistakes and explain everything. I never felt attracted to Jack, neither when he was a mere spirit, nor when he became a Guardian: I never considered him as a potential partner. To me he's just a friend, indeed, a great friend: I know that is a troublemaker, who prefers a laugh to a serious talk, and that he made a huge mistake when you attacked us less than a year ago, but in the end he's always been loyal. He saved my life, you know? When you destroyed all my eggs and sabotaged Easter all the children stopped believing, all except Jamie, and it is only thanks to Jack that he didn't lose his faith. Although I had insulted and banished him for the irresponsible behaviour he had had in your lair, he came back, found that precious child and talked to him to convince him not to give up. His was a generous gesture, which I didn't expect from a boy apparently so immature, and this, combined with the inability to repay the debt and the need to repair my warren, induced me to get away from everything and everybody: I needed time to think and physical work seemed a good way to vent. For more than seven months I met Jack rarely and only for a short time, and I didn't notice any change in him: I never expected there was such a novelty. Seeing you talking in Tooth's clearing scared me, and knowing that these encounters have been going on for two months and that the other Guardians approved them upset me: it was as if Jack had betrayed me a second time. How could he choose you?».

«It's obvious that his opinion about me is completely different from yours» sharply replied Pitch.

«I'm not sure about that at all!» replied the Easter Bunny; «Jack didn't always seem consenting to me and, even when it looks like he is, he behaves in a strange way! He has never been sweet or submissive in his life, and yet, how odd, he's always so polite with you and he obeys your orders. What did you do to him, huh? Have you tempted him with false promises? You're deceiving him, in order to be sure to destroy him once and for all? Did you corrupt him with your magic sand? I now that he's always covered with it: he has it on his clothes, stuck in his staff's crystals, on the strange laces he wears on the calves and even his hair. But I've not only seen that, oh, no, you left on his body marks far worse. You beat him every time you meet him, don't you? And probably you even insult him, right? Destroying him only physically is not enough, for sure you want to first see him falling at your feet after losing his reason and begging for mercy: but you never have it for him. I know what else you do to him, I know how you abuse him! Don't you ever feel disgusted by yourself? Don't you ever feel shameful when you take advantage of him and the fear he feels toward you and which prevents him from reacting? But, actually, why do I ask it? You live with fear! You'd have so much fun seeing him crying and panicking, and who knows how many times you hurt him! This, for you, is nothing but fun! In the end you only care about winning, you hate everything and everyone, including Jack, and...».

«I love him, you fool!» boomed the Boogeyman.

The Guardian immediately fell silent, pricking up his ears and opening wide his eyes in amazement, but the man was no less so: that confession was neither planned nor willed, and he felt terribly ashamed of having exposed himself to that point. He had needed months to understand he loved Jack and weeks to find the courage to declare to him, and through all this he had always been gently guided by the boy, or pushed to think by significant and dramatic events: he still didn't feel ready to admit in front of his old enemies how deep was the affection that bound him to Frost. Bunnymund's words, however, had injured him deeply, hitting him right where he felt weaker, accusing him of the same crimes that he had initially planned to commit, bringing to light all his insecurities and, therefore, his anger: it was true, in the past he had erred countless times, both in his own thoughts that with his own actions, but he had repented of all, he had paid for his mistakes and tried in every way to remedy them. This, for the boy, had been enough to forgive him, and Pitch, who always blamed himself when something happened to his love, had needed some time to believe him completely; the Pooka, with his words, undermined the basis of all the path he had followed, but he had no intention to let himself being drawn into doubt and pain again: he would have defended tooth and nail what his partner had donated him.

It was for this reason that, pretending not to have made any shattering revelation, he shook off the embarrassment and continued: «I do not hate Jack. I only want him healthy and happy. I'd kill myself rather than hurt him, and I'd kill anyone who tried to attack him. Is the fact that I have come between him and Behemuth's sword not enough for you as a demonstration?».

«What a beautiful demonstration, really! You've been able to summon him to perfection and in full of his powers: congratulations!» testily replied the Easter Bunny.

«I know what happened, rabbit: I was there from the beginning, unlike you. I know that the fault was mine and mine only, but, if I'd just really wanted to kill or enslave Jack, leaving Behemuth free to attack him would have been the most obvious and simplest choice. As you know I didn't: I tried to distract that creature of shadows and, when I saw that the danger was imminent, I decided to sacrifice myself in order to save Jack. Do you remember this? Do you remember how I made sure to lock the beast in its prison, even though I was completely worn out? I didn't do that for me, nor for you: I did it for Jack. I did it in order to prevent him from being killed or wounded, so that he could live unharmed forever, with me or without me. This seems to me a sufficient demonstration of the fact that I don't hate him» calmly explained the Boogeyman.

The Guardian stared at him, confused, and, after some hesitation, he asked: «But haven't you ever thought of corrupting him? Isn't it what you'd desire to do even in this moment?».

«At first I have» admitted the man; «When I saw what he was capable of, I realized that I could have never won as long as he had been on your side, so I decided to corrupt him to make him my personal weapon. When you drove him away I followed him to Antarctica, talked to him and appealed to our common characteristics to deceive and defeat him, but I didn't realize that I had hurt myself on my own. The words I told him were impressed in my mind and returned to the memory every time I met him and, gradually, they changed me. It's been a slow process, which I noticed only when it had been fully completed, since the changes always consisted of small details: at first I just wanted to subjugate his powers, then I thought to make him my most special servant, then I wanted his eyes, despite the corruption, not become yellow, but to remain as blue as the sky, and so on, until, finally, I didn't understand that he was perfect as he was, and the only thing that I longed was his company. I cannot say that I've completely abandoned the idea to corrupt him: I still try to convince him, but it has become more a game than a serious attempt. I do not care to crown him Dark Prince: he's already on my side».

Bunnymund, which, at first, had assumed an expression greatly annoyed, seemed to calm down at those statements, but, nevertheless, he insinuated: «And who assures me that you are not trying to deceive me?».

«Can't you imagine how much it costme talking and admitting what I've admitted!?» cried Pitch, furious; «You'd deserve a punch in the face for what you just suggested! I will refrain myself, but just in order not to prolong the speech. So, have you finished with your interrogation or not?».

«If you turn so aggressive again you can be sure that you will never convince me to trust you!» snapped the Pooka, raising his fists; «Now, look, since you're not interested in corrupting Jack, what do you do with him when you spend time together?».

The Boogeyman couldn't hold back a malicious smile at that question and, in order to take his revenge for the other's mistrust, he licked his lips and addressed him a mischievous look. As he imagined it took a while for the Easter Bunny to catch the allusion, but when he realized, he got ridiculously upset: he didn't only opened wide his emerald irises to the point he showed the cornea's white, but he even jumped back, and the man was certain that, if the rabbit hadn't been completely covered with fur, he would see him blush to the ears' tips.

Fortunately within few seconds the Guardian managed to pull himself together and, after stepping a foot on the ground and bristling his chest hair to look more authoritative, he stammered: «D-do not look so smug, you pervert! This is a question we need to talk about! Do you really have to do, uhm, _those things_ with Jack!?».

Bored Pitch rolled his eyes and replied with sarcasm: «What is it, does the Guardian of Fun need a written permission from you to have some fun by any chance?».

«It is not a matter of permission, it's that those kinds of things are not suitable for his age, and do not to laugh at this! The fact that Jack has lived for three hundred years has not the slightest importance: he's still a child!» excitedly explained Bunnymund.

The Boogeyman, who already at the first sentence had burst into an uproarious laughter, struggled a lot to regain his self-control, but in the end he managed to ask: «Three hundred years are more than enough to mature, even for someone like Jack, but well let's absurdly suppose that they never passed: physically how old do you think he is?».

The Pooka, broken back, scratched his chest to take time to reflect, then he suggested: «Uhm, well, a dozen, maybe? Yes, I would definitely say he's thirteen».

At that response the man sighed in disbelief and covered his eyes in exasperation with the right hand, but eventually he raised his head and, wearily staring at the other, he commented: «Thank your incredible luck for having said such a stupid thing to me and not directly in front of Jack, because I'm sure that he would have not reacted happily if he had heard you defining him a thirteen-years-old. You're kidding, right? When he died there was less than a month to his seventeenth birthday ¹».

Immediately the Easter Bunny contested: «No, you're the one who's kidding! How is it possible that he is almost seventeen? He's so small, and...».

«Don't be silly, he's not as small as you say!» intervened Pitch; «You should not compare him to yourself, nor me, nor even to the youth of this generation: when he was alive he was a boy rather tall for his age. If you're talking about his bulk you're partially right: considered that he's seventeen he's thin and, although his shoulders are already wider than his hips, he's not muscular at all. The explanation, however, is simple: his family was poor, certainly it couldn't afford abundant and nutritious meals, and I'm willing to bet that Jack often gave his portion to his sister in order to prevent her from starving».

The Guardian assumed a mortified look at the news: it was evident that he had never lingered to think about Jack's past, perhaps because of lack of interest, perhaps because of carelessness or perhaps simple because of superficiality, which had led him to think that it had been cheerful and happy exactly like his immortal life. Learning that the boy had suffered in silence and that he had lived as a human being longer than he had imagined certainly made Jack appear in a new light, which, instead of stopping at his playful behaviour, began to reveal facets more mature of his character; however, Bunnymund was not yet ready to accept everything without reserve, so, with a faint voice, he protested: «Okay, I believe you about his age, but did you really have to teach him those...?».

«Oh, damnit!» interrupted him the Boogeyman, angry about the other's constant complaints and embarrassed by those intimate questions; «I started it, okay? I admit: I'm the one who started all. But I'm not the one who finished. He doesn't know “Those things”, as you like to define them, only thanks to me: I did not teach him everything, because he learned a part of what he does by himself. When, half an hour ago, I told you that Jack is not as innocent as you think, I was not kidding you: he's often the first of us who takes the initiative. As I've already explained to you before I want him to be healthy and happy, so I would never even touch him without his permission: I always make sure to have his consent, and I often wait for him to propose, in order not to risk to force him».

Hearing that explanation, however, the Pooka assumed an expression more confused than before and, frowning, he asked: «But how did he learn by himse...».

«I do not know!» roared the man, opening his arms to vent his exasperation; «Maybe he already knew them before, maybe he acted on instinct, maybe he saw someone doing them, maybe he was a gigolo or maybe Toothiana explained them to him! Surely he didn't learn them from you! I do not know how he learned them, I do not care to know and, more importantly, you must not want to know, so shut up!».

The Easter bunny, who had made himself as small as possible when he had seen him bursting out, returned immediately alarmed in hearing his last words and immediately stammered: «T-Tooth!? Did she explained them to him? Was she crazy? However, what is a “gigolo”? And what did you mean when you said that Jack saw someone doing them?».

Overwhelmed by that series of questions Pitch hid his face in his hands and sighed: he couldn't stand that his interlocutor could be so alarmist to believe such nonsenses. Jack had taught him that jokes were good for the spirit, both of the one who spoke and of the one who listened, and he had decided to wisecrack just to defuse that awkward moment; judging from the result, however, he'd have better avoid it.

Dropping his arms in defeat he said in a weak voice: «No, Bunnymund, Tooth never explained them to Jack: I was just kidding. I really don't know how he learned: I just made a joke, hoping in vain that you could understand it. And do not to quibble about what a gigolo is: suffice it to say that Jack never was it».

«Since when has the King of Nightmares learned to joke?» teased him the Guardian with a mocking tone.

«Since the Guardian of Fun taught it to him and even before! Instead, when will you stop to break the eggs? Aren't you tired, after all these centuries, to be still so boring and petulant?» retorted the Boogeyman.

Bunnymund responded to the provocation with an indistinct mumbling, but he didn't go on: evidently he knew he had covertly insulted him with no good reason, and maybe there was the possibility that he had realized he was too argumentative.

As if he wanted to apologize he scratched his head and admitted: «Well, I've made enough questions about this topic: I do not need to know more. In the end I have to admit that, when you woke up in Tooth's realm, Jack was calm, he didn't complain about anything and looked happy to be with you, and I suppose this happens all the times».

«Of course it does: Jack has no reason to complain about me» replied the man.

The neutral and almost bored tone which he had used and the choice not to stare into his eyes were, no doubt, seemed to the Pooka rude gestures and signs of disinterest, but Pitch did not care: too many emotions had caught him when he had heard that sentence, and he preferred to cover them with a disrespectful attitude rather than reveal them.

The first of these had undoubtedly been the relief: finally the Easter Bunny seemed to accept his relationship with Jack, and there was even the possibility that he would stop criticizing them and hinder them at every step. Not that Pitch needed his approval, of course: Frost was his and he didn't care about what other people thought about them two; however, not having opponents allowed him to enjoy whole hog his partner's company, to live a more peaceful life and, above all, to go out of the closet, both literally and conceptually, leaving the dark places where he had always been forced to hide and relaxing a bit».

Another had been an immense satisfaction: if Jack had seemed happy even to a blind and stubborn character as Bunnymund, then he had to be really on cloud nine when he met him and spend time with him. The Boogeyman, in fact, had had dozens and dozens of demonstrations of this reality in the months which he had passed along with the boy; however, because of his own timid and shy spirit and that perpetual feeling of inadequacy which caught him every time he was with someone, he had often doubted about himself and his ability to take care of his love.

Having that confirmation, moreover, had not only reassured him, but also made him proud: as impish as he was he had immediately rethought about their many embraces, the scratches, the hugs, the bites, the thrusts and the boy's sensual moans: oh, yes, his little snowflake had complained al lot in those moments, and loudly, but only to beg to have more. The temptation to mention this fact to the Pooka and embarrass him was great, but in the end the man preferred to favour the wisdom to an uncertain hilarity: convincing his interlocutor had been no mean feat, and it was not the case to ruin everything in order to indulge in the umpteenth, unnecessary provocation.

In order not to give in to that distasteful desire he repeated to himself that, now that Jack loved him, there was not the slightest reason to make their unions public, and he rather focused on what came after them: he had no difficulty in recalling to mind the partner's fresh scent, his warm hugs, his sweet kisses and the melodious voice with which he declared his love before falling asleep, exhausted, and then his relaxed face, his breath fainter than a spring breeze and his limbs abandoned in a deep sleep. Touched by these memories Pitch smiled and imagined how it would have been having Frost there with him: he would have liked so much to be able to tighten the arms, enjoy his awakening and spend time with him, talking and cuddling him as he had done in Toothiana's clearing days ago.

Bunnymund's words had reminded him that specific event, helping him to remember details which had filled him with joy and stolen him a smile, but, as soon as we thought about them more carefully, a terrible suspicion occurred to him.

Narrowing his eyes to slits the Boogeyman stared at his interlocutor and, with an icy tone, he asked: «Bunnymund, satisfy my curiosity: how many times did you come to visit us while Jack and I were in Tooth's realm?».

The Pooka almost snapped to attention at that question and, looking around absently, he muttered: «Oh, how many times? Well, I'll be honest, I don't remember it very well, uhm, for sure when I saw you together, and we talked a bit, then, uhm, yes, then maybe with Tooth, but now that I think about it I'm not so sure, maybe she simply told me...».

«Do not lie to me!» attacked him the man; «You perfectly remember what happened! You went with Tooth, but you came back even after, is not so? When she arrived Jack was still sleeping, you coward voyeur!».

The Easter Bunny tried to speak, Pitch didn't leave him the time: with a growl he evoked a handful of magic sand and threw it at him, but, seeing that he had dodged it, he returned to the fray with new attacks.

«You, lousy, two-bit rodent, how could you dare to secretly return to peek at us? What did you hope to see, huh? You studied us while we were sleeping, you eavesdropped on our conversation, you pried into our business, but moreover you looked at Jack! I'll tear your eyes out for this affront!» roared the Boogeyman.

Feeling now weak and noticing that the other deftly avoided any offensive the man become even more furious and changed his approach: focusing he made a long whip of black sand appear in his right hand, then he grasped it firmly and bent his arm to deal the first shot. Several whips were blanks and some struck him unexpectedly in the chest and in the face, but he didn't care and continued the onslaught. At one point, now read the opponent's technique, he managed to anticipate his movement and twirl the rope around his forearm; sure he had him on a string he pulled, causing him to fall on the ground and getting ready to a full contact, but Bunnymund, who had tried to calm him down all the time, raised his paws in surrender and said: «Please, please, stop! Let's not start arguing as before! Do you remember Tooth? She will never let us in if we don't behave in a civil and educated manner!».

«You talk about civility and education after what you did? Beast!» boomed Pitch.

«I know, I know, I've been a real stupid!» admitted the Pooka; «Coming back to peek at you was rude, but I did it just to check if Jack was fine! Try to understand me, I found out that you regularly meet only few hours before, it's logical that I was worried! I just wanted to be ready to intervene in case of need, not to do the spy, and in fact I want to assure you that I've not seen anything! I swear, I didn't watch neither you nor Jack, and I even turned when you stood up to get dressed!».

Foaming with rage the Boogeyman grabbed his interlocutor by the ears, lifted him up until he could touch his muzzle with his nose and stared straight into his eyes: he could not tolerate the idea that in those two small emeralds it had been reflected Jack's naked body, so well proportioned, so white, so perfect to leave him speechless every time he undressed it, but he, as the master of deceit he was, was able to recognize a lie in one, so he decided to give one last chance to the supposed voyeur.

«Is what you're saying the truth or a pathetic excuse to avoid the punishment? Know that, if you're lying to me, I will discover it in less than a second! Confess! Are you absolutely certain that you didn't look at Jack?» he asked in a threatening tone.

«Yes, yes, I'm sure! I only saw his back, but for few seconds, for the rest of the time I saw yours» excitedly swore the Easter Bunny.

The man looked at him for several minutes, but the only thing he managed to glimpse in those widened irises was fear in its purest form, combined with guilt: the Guardian had been sincere and he had not violated with his eyes his little snowflake.

Albeit reassured by this discovery Pitch didn't immediately free the prisoner: knowing that he had been peered at during such an intimate moment had greatly embarrassed and annoyed him, and he felt the need to vent on the other, punishing him for his rude gesture and terrorizing him so as to make sure that such incidents didn't happen again. It was for this reason that the Boogeyman tightened his grip, squeezing until he could hear his cartilage creaking above Bunnymund's groans of pain, and he absorbed every single wave of panic which overwhelmed the other: he wanted the Pooka to realize that he had made a serious mistake by playing against him and invading his territory, to feel crushed and weakened and perceive fear in its purest form at the idea he had unleashed his wrath.

The man held the position for a minute, trying to overpower Bunnymund even with his eyes, and, when he was sure that the message had been understood, he raged with a final tug before releasing him: considered the importance of the topic and of what he wanted to tell him he preferred to exaggerate rather than restrain himself, and, after all, he didn't find anything wrong with having a little fun.

«In your eyes there is no trace of falsehood or deceit» whispered Pitch; «This time I'll overlook, but only because I want to return soon to the North Pole: if you dare even only to think about peering at us again, be sure that I'll give Jack the most beautiful rabbit fur which had ever been seen in a royal court».

The Easter Bunny, who was still sitting on the ground while rubbing his large ears, raised his muzzle and commented: «You're going a little too far now, Pitch: stop being so possessive! Anyway, I'm sure that Jack wouldn't be happy at all to receive such a distasteful gift».

«Oh, don't worry, I'll find still a good use of your fur: if Jack doesn't want it I'll to keep it for myself and use it as a bedside rug, or, perhaps, to decorate my throne» retorted the Boogeyman in a mellifluous tone.

The Guardian snorted at that answer and looked up at the sky, but he didn't protest; levering on his arms he stood up and said: «You can ignore me, if you want to, but the fact remains that you're exaggerating. Considered, however, that I've been the one I who made a mistake it's better to shelve the topic and forget about it. Now, what about a truce? I don't like you, and I will never like you, but I can't decide for Jack and, if he wants to be beside you, I cannot stop him».

Finally, all the tension which had been accumulated in the man's body and mind dissolved and he sighed, but, in order not to act out of character, he exclaimed: «Let's praise your intuition, in the end you understood!».

«It was not a matter of understanding!» snapped the other; «And, anyway, I have not finished to talk! I wanted to add one important thing: you must make me a promise. Jack has given credit to you, but I still don't trust you: you have to promise me that you'll properly take care of him, that you won't betray him and never abandon him».

Pitch was overwhelmed by rage on hearing the request and immediately answered: «Do not be silly, I'm not obliged to make any promise! What's between me and Jack concerns only us, I am free to do what I want when I want, and the only thing you have to do is not to pry into!».

Immediately after the outburst the Boogeyman looked away from his interlocutor and brought a hand to his heart: he had spoken with anger, but the truth was that he had felt deeply upset. The promise that the other had asked him to make was much more demanding than it appeared at first sight: Bunnymund was imposing him not only to take care of Jack, but also not to fail, and he was not sure he could do it. How could he protect him from all the dangers with certainty if, every day, he used the Nightmare to perform his task? How could he be sure not to hurt him with words if these were his main weapon? How could he swear not to terrify him if fear was what he fed himself with? No, the risk was too high, the chance of failure too elevated to let him come forward to that point: he would have never promised something he couldn't keep, not after the disaster he had caused with Behemuth. He loved his sweet snowflake, he madly loved him and he was deeply convinced he was the most beautiful gift he had ever received, but, due this, he wanted to reserve the option to preserve it: if in the course of time he had seen that their relationship harmed him he was going to disappear and not hurt him any more. He preferred to suffer for his absence, but knowing he was safe, rather than keep him next to himself and hurt him, and he was ready to take this hard step, should the need arise. About how Jack would have reacted, instead, he had not thought: he had confusedly decided that, sooner or later, the boy would have got over it and been able to forget him, and, however, the Pooka interrupted the train of his thoughts.

«You have not changed at all! I won't pry into, but you will do what I asked you to promise. Know this: if I find out that you have not respected our pact you'll pay dearly» threatened him the other.

«Uh, I'm trembling with fear!» mocked him the man; «I don't know how I'll be able to resist your vengeful fury! While I ponder hurry to reopen that stupid tunnel!».

The Easter Bunny, who, until that moment, had maintained an aggressive and upset attitude, finally cleared his frown and, with a provocative smile, he said: «As you wish».

Pitch saw him gently beating his paw on the ground twice, but he didn't have time to ask him the reason for this strange gesture: as soon as he opened his mouth the ground disappeared beneath his feet and he fell, slipping away from the light into the darkness.

 

 

 

¹ As you surely know in the movie Jack's age is never specified and, when I wrote this chapter, I read tons of opinion about it, none of them reliable; in the light of this I decided to trust my intuition and state he's almost seventeen years old, because of the same reason I made Pitch explain. Recently I found out that, in the English dvd's extras (or maybe only on an internet video? I don't know, I found it on the web while I was translating), William Joyce says he's fourteen years old; of course, since he's his creator, I believe him and don't complain, but I decided not to change Jack's age, because I don't like to move the goalposts for my (Italian) readers and because I would have ruined all the scene. In the end, since his body could belong both to a thirteen years old and healthy boy and to an eighteen years old and weak men, I think everything works.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already translated chapter 30, but the gentle girl who checks my translation is busy for few days, so I'll publish it on Thursday evening. Since this week I have two exams and I also have to work a bit, finish the Italian chapter and a book and do a medical examination, I don't think I'll manage to translate chapter 31 within Thursday, but, you know, never say never... I'll let you know if I do, see you on Thursday!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late, my friend yesterday didn't have time to check the translation

 

 

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 30**

 

 

Without having the possibility to cling to any handhold Pitch fell into the tunnel created by Bunnymund and slid quickly along the walls of compact earth. Unlike the first time he didn't panic and, nor tried to slow down his run: now he knew what's going to happen, so he preferred to keep calm and attempt a soft landing at the exit, instead of stirring and risk, again, to roll head over heels on the ground.

Despite the caution and concentration, however, he failed to get the desired result: as soon as he came out of the tunnel the sudden frost and the unexpected change of gravity confused him, preventing him from bending his limbs and spine like he wanted, and, after a flight of a few meters, he fell on his back in a pile of snow.

Puffing and coughing he stood up, trying to recompose himself in time for the Pooka's arrival, but when he turned around he already saw him in front of himself, intent to giggle with an air of superiority.

Angry at the joke the Boogeyman smoothed his robe and said: «You are an emeritus idiot! How could you dare to make me fall in your tunnel!?».

«Oh, come on, do not tell me you got upset just for that! If you really spend time with Jack you should be used to this kind of jokes! However, I remind you that it was you who asked me to open the tunnel».

The temptation to punch the other and make him pay with his life for the offence was strong in the man, but he decided not to yield to it: by now few seconds and few meters separated him from his sweet snowflake, and there was no need to ruin everything at the last.

«Actually I should have expected that an obtuse rabbit as you are would have never have figured out what was the most appropriate place to open it. Do not worry, the next time I will specify. Now let's put an end to this farce» concluded Pitch.

Without waiting for an answer he walked towards the side entrance of North's Palace, not hesitating to give the Guardian a shove with his shoulder to push him away, and when he reached the door he knocked.

He waited few seconds, then returned to beat the wood and, in a commanding voice, he ordered: «Toothiana, open this door immediately!».

As soon as he finished to talk the door were cracked open and from it, along with a pleasant warmth, Toothiana peeped out.

«Stand aside, I need to pass» curtly intimated her the Boogeyman.

The fairy opened the door, but she didn't let herself be intimidated and, with a reproachful look, she asked: «Are you sure you have talked to Bunnymund and solved all the questions in a civil manner? You don't look calm at this moment: do not try to deceive me! Until you have ironed out your disagreements neither you nor Bunnymund will be allowed in!».

Exasperated by the treatment unfair and inadequate to his rank which he had received since he had awakened after the battle, the man growled and gave up the dialogue: summoning his growing powers he dematerialized himself into a stream of magic sand and quickly passed the feathered obstacle which stood in front of him. Despite the anger and the outrage he harboured he took care to gently touch the Guardian, rather than strike her hard, but, as soon as he left her behind, he ignored all her protests and rebukes and went in search of his love.

Flying from one room to the other, along the same path he had followed less than an hour before, Pitch reached the main hall and regained his human form and, as soon as he looked up, he let out a deep sigh of relief: his sweet snowflake was laying where he had left him, awake and apparently unharmed, and, sitting among the pillows, he spun the staff in his hands, a thoughtful expression on his face.

«Pitch!» cried Jack as soon as he saw him.

«No, Jack, do not stand up! I do not want you to get tired uselessly »preceded him the Boogeyman.

Without further ado he sped up his pace, reaching him and kneeling in front of him, then he took his face in his hands and asked: «How are you, Jack? Did you hurt yourself when you hit Bunnymund? Do you still feel dizzy?».

«No, Pitch» answered the boy with a smile; «Do not worry: I recovered almost immediately. I'm fine, don't you see? I even already fixed my staff».

Grabbing the staff in order to check it better Pitch studied its every fiber, making sure there were no nicks or marks of any kind, but the wood seemed to be intact. Breathing a sigh of relief he put it on the floor, pushing it in front of the couch, so that it was handy but not in the way, then he caressed his partner's head and said: «You fixed it perfectly, Jack: it's as good as new».

Immediately the boy's eyes lit up, betraying the satisfaction he had felt in receiving the compliment, and, in an excited voice, he commented: «Really? Thank you, Pitch! You know, actually it hasn't been particularly difficult: I had fixed it once before, so I knew what I had to do, and then in this case it was only chipped, not totally broken».

An opaque veil descended on the Boogeyman's irises at those words: he remembered too well that Frost, in the past, had been able to fix his staff, but, above all, he remembered why he had had to do it. The memory of their encounter in the Antarctica was unforgettably imprinted in his mind: he would have never forgotten how he had tempted Jack to convince him to pass on the side of evil, how, seeing that the promises of glory and power hadn't entice him, he had decided to change his approach, how he had seduced him and finally deceived him. He wasn't really sorry for what he had done: at that time he didn't know how much affection and serenity the boy would have been able to give him and, anyway, he still remained of the opinion that, if he had not courted him with the violent and cruel tactic he had used until Christmas' night, he would never have got his full attention. In retrospect, however, he grew sad: being brutal was in his nature, mixing pain with pleasure his ability more developed, considering Frost as his property remained normal and right for him; and yet, at that moment, for the first time he wished he hadn't had to overdo so much to make him his. For the first time he wished he had been able to choose how to behave, not to be forced into evil by his role, and he wondered why the mask of fear he had created for himself was so hard to throw away at will, and why the shadows which he controlled with such mastery didn't obey him when he commanded them to move away from his heart. For the first time he wished he was a different person, not in order to change his own soul and suddenly become affectionate and spontaneous, but to be free to do what pleased him in every time and circumstance.

The boy quickly noticed Pitch had got pensive and, caressing his cheek, he said: «Oh, no, sorry, Pitch! I'm sorry, so sorry: I did not want to sadden you. Don't think back to that episode, you do not need to: I forgave you months ago. We have already discussed about your role and the Guardians' one, the balance which must exist between the two and the fact that I will do everything to maintain it, at the cost of siding completely with you or with my friends until everything will be returned as it should be: the rest does not matter. I don't care if you attacked me in the past and broke the staff, I don't even care if you do it again: I will love you anyhow, and I'll forgive you as soon as you regret what you did, just as it happened after Behemuth's battle. The mistakes you made and will make, the role you have to play in the world or your nature a bit cruel have no importance for me: I love you as you are. I know that there's a good side in you, even if sometimes you hide it really well, and that's enough for me. I love you as you are, Pitch: do not change, you don't need to».

The man listened till the end to that speech, a bit redundant and simplistic, but tenderly touching in its attempt to cheer him up, and he immediately understood everything which had not been told, or which had been explained with words not appropriate. Half-closing his eyes for a moment he enjoyed that reassurance, glad to have the confirmation he was perfect for Jack, but then he shook himself and answered: «Saddened? Me? Don't be silly! I was just thinking if I should prepare you a cup of Himalayan absinthe's infusion or not».

The boy looked up at the sky, probably ready to contest, but, just when was about to open his mouth, he stopped, brought his fingertips on the partner's left cheekbone and asked: «Pitch, what happened to your face?».

Feeling a slight burning sensation on the skin Pitch immediately understood that the injuries suffered in Bunnymund's warren had not yet healed, and he cursed himself for not having checked them before returning to North's Palace: he hated worrying his partner, he hated admitting his own defeat, but, above all, he hated the idea of mentioning again the Pooka and the quarrel they had had. It was for this reason that, feigning nonchalance, he replied: «Nothing: it's just a scratch. These, rather, what are they, huh, Jack?».

Seeing him indicating some slight dark marks on his palms Frost imitated him: «Nothing: they are just scratches».

The Boogeyman, of course, didn't let him fool himself and, assuming a serious tone, he replied: «No, Jack, these are not “just scratches”: you know very well that they are your staff's splinters. It's better if I take them out: you might get an infection and, even if it doesn't, they would penetrate in the flesh and get stuck. I don't want your hands to be ruined by such a mistake».

Deftly modelling his magic sand the man made a pair of tweezers, irregular shaped and unstable, but suitable for the purpose which he had created them for, then he hold them between the thumb and the forefinger and used them to clean up the boy's hands. He worked for two whole minutes, pulling out every splinter calmly in order to avoid the risk of unnecessarily damaging the white skin, and when he finished he let the imperfect tool he had used dissolve, and rubbed his fingertips on Jack's palms, to make sure he had not forgotten any fragment.

«Pitch» called him the partner; «You know, you can pretend to be tough as much as you want, and deny there's a good side in you as many times as you wish, but sooner or later you always betray yourself».

Thanking his own inability to blush Pitch glared at the other and blurted out: «Don't you dare! Are you kidding me instead of thanking me for the help I gave you? What a grateful person you are! Anyway, I remind you that I took care of your hands because I didn't want to let anyone, especially Bunnymund, disfigure you. You are mine, Jack, my and mine only, so you have to be perfect. Now lie down: I want to sit on the couch».

Half sighing and half chuckling the boy refrained himself from responding and arranged the pillows against the arm, crouching to leave home to the Boogeyman, and this took the opportunity to sit next to him: putting his right leg on his lap and his left behind his back he helped him to settle down, then he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.

After a while he felt Frost grabbing his hand and take it on his heart, and he didn't complain: its quiet throbbing had always had the power to calm him down, and after all the troubles he had had during the day, it was a real blessing.

Soon, however, he heard a hesitant voice asking him: «Pitch, can I ask you a question? How did it go with Bunnymund?».

Frowning the man snorted and replied: «What do you mean with “how did it go”? How do you think it have to go? Personally I found Toothiana's gesture senseless and rude, and the Pooka obtuse and rude as always. If you meant something else explain yourself better».

The boy didn't get angry and gently demanded: «I wanted to know how your discussion went. Did you manage to talk? Did you clear up? I'm afraid you didn't, judging from the cut on your cheek. And I'm also afraid of something else».

Wincing at the revelation Pitch hastened to bend over the other and murmur: «Afraid? Of what, Jack?».

Jack looked around, as if to gather enough courage, but almost immediately went back to stare at him and confessed: «I'm afraid of Bunnymund. Or rather, not of him, but of his attitude: until now he has always been rude to you, but now he's exaggerating. I know it was you who provoked him less than an hour ago, but his reaction was too violent: why did he attack you like that? I don't regret I defended you, but I didn't like beating him, and in the future I don't want to have to do it again, or to choose between his company and yours. But, actually, even this is not the real problem. I heard you accusing him of jealousy: is it so? Is he really jealous?».

The Boogeyman hesitated a lot before speaking, still bothered by what had happened and the carelessness with which he had provoked the enemy without first making sure to protect his love, but finally he gave in and began to explain: «No, Jack he's not jealous. He has behaved in such a stupid way just because he was worried about you. You know the opinion he has about me and my job, and how much he hates my presence: he was sure that I was forcing you to meet me, that I tortured you and wanted to corrupt you. It's been quite difficult making him admit it, but in the end he gave in, and it also seems he listened to what I said, since he stopped to attack me and reduced the insults. Do not be afraid of him, Jack: he doesn't desire you and, in any case, I would never allow him to touch you».

The boy chuckled and replied: «Oh, Pitch, it's really kind from you to volunteer yourself as my knight, but that was not my problem! I was just afraid of being embarrassed, of making feel embarrassed all of you and of being forced not to see Bunnymund any more. If he was really jealous I would have rather staid away from him, for your sake and in order not to make him suffer, but I would have been sad: he's stubborn and annoying, but he's also a great friend. Anyway, I can defend myself well by insistent courting, you know?».

With a defiant sneer the man commented: «Oh, really? So, why did you let yourself been courted by me without ever resisting me once?».

«What a silly question! Because I wanted to, of course» answered Frost in an annoyed tone.

Pitch leaned even more over his face, enjoying his slightly opacified eyes and his breath getting warmer, then he teased him: «Oh, so you gave in because you decided it on your own, and not because you've been hopelessly seduced, is that so? Was that so every time? And will it be so even now? Because you seem again on the verge of surrendering».

The boy didn't take up the challenge, maybe because the accusations he had received were true, or, maybe, because he hadn't even heard them; he stood there, motionless, abandoned on the pillows, as if he was waiting for something, and the Boogeyman didn't leave him there for long.

Leaning on the right elbow in order not to encumber Jack with his own weight he covered the distance between them, stopping a hair's breadth away from his lips and letting their breaths mixing, as he had done months ago, when he had received the boy's first visit; he stood still for a moment, enjoying that moment of suspension load of expectation, then he touched his partner's mouth in a slight kiss which, albeit chaste, was so full of sensuality to make the two lovers startle.

Caressing his side the man started to go down and tickle his chin, and when he saw him open his mouth he grabbed the bottom one with his incisors, gently pulling just to show him the desire she felt towards him.

Jack's hot breath made him realize he was not the only one who wanted more, so he got ready to deepen the contact, but, as soon as he opened his mouth, he heard some footsteps and a whirr in the distance and he froze.

Fast as the shadows he commanded he straightened his back, glancing at the hall's entrance and trying to look calm and indifferent, and, as he expected, he saw Toothiana and Bunnymund going out of it. He mentally thanked his quick reflexes who had allowed him to step back in time, but, as soon as he lowered his irises on the boy, he realized he had failed.

Taken with stepping back quickly from the partner he had levered on the pillows, but he had then forgotten to retract his hand, and this, as if on purpose, had been languidly resting on the other's neck, the fingers slightly spread as they wanted to follow his veins. The worst mistake, however, if it could be defined “mistake”, had definitely been not warning Frost: the boy, in fact, had remained softly sprawled on the sofa, his cheeks slightly flushed, his eyes clouded and almost pleading, his lips parted and his face leaning forward in the clear demand for a kiss.

In an attempt to salvage what he could Pitch tried to pull his hand back, but the partner grabbed it by the wrist, bringing the palm to his cheek and hugging him with his legs.

While the fairy didn't seem bothered in the least by that gesture, the Pooka bristled and stiffened, stopping on the doorway; the woman came in, but, as soon as she realized she hadn't been followed, she turned and asked: «Bunnymund, why don't you come in?».

The Easter bunny hesitated few seconds, clearly embarrassed, but, in the end, he frowned and snapped: «How is it possible that it always seems those two just did...? We've left them alone for five minutes at most!».

Hearing these words the Boogeyman bared his teeth and got ready to retort, determined to put an end to his complaints and insults once and for all, but Jack intervened before him.

«We just did, you say? Not, maybe, we're going to do?» he asked in a sensual tone.

Without waiting for an answer he straightened his back, making sure to move slowly and show his neck and collarbone, then he knelt on the pillows, leaning against the man and passing his left arm around his shoulders. Exploiting the side slits of Pitch's new garment he slipped his right hand under the fabric, going along the inner thigh in a soft and provocative caress, and brought his lips to his ear, sticking out his tongue to languidly lick that little flap of skin hidden under the lobe.

Bunnymund couldn't stand it more and, after calling in a loud voice the master of the house, he ran into the corridor.

«Guys, don't you think you overdid it?» scolded them the fairy, barely holding back a laugh.

The Boogeyman didn't get upset, rewarding his love with a pat on the head for his brain child and not dodging his playful bites, then he said: «Technically I didn't do anything. The fact that Jack has acted in a way that suits me and pleases me beyond measure is a horse of a very different colour. The rabbit seemed upset, right? I am seriously convinced that he has no idea how these things work. Haven't you ever thought about teaching him something, Toothiana?».

«Pitch!» rebuked them the Fairy Teeth, not specifying the details of the rebuke.

The conversation, however, was interrupted by some noises in the distance: at first there was a crash, followed by a dull thud; then an indistinct chatter, in which, in turn, prevailed a deep voice and a much more acute and agitated one; finally, the lowest clearly boomed: «Whatever it is, not on my couch!».

«Will you play this skit for North, too?» slyly asked Toothiana.

«Maybe another time» concluded the man in a hurry.

Overcoming the shivers of pleasure which where already crawling to the abdomen he moved Jack away, quickly stood up to grab a random book from the shelves which adorned the wall and then sat down again, settling the boy in his own lap and opening the book on his thigh.

When North broke into the room Pitch didn't turn a hair, but merely raised his head from the pages and welcomed him: «Good evening, North».

«Good evening, Pitch! I see that you appreciate my library: very good! As usual I should have not trusted Bunnymund too much» returned the master of the house.

The Pooka, who had heeled him shyly hiding behind his imposing figure, exclaimed: «When I went away they were doing something quite different: they set up this reading skit only in order not to be caught by you! And, anyway, I find inappropriate even what they're doing right now: Jack is perfectly able to read by himself, and it would be the case that he does it».

Santa Claus immediately turned to replicate and the two began to discuss: one stated that sharing a book was an act sweet and instructive, the other that was an inappropriate affectation; one affirmed that the books were his property and that he could lend to whoever he wished, the other that it was dangerous to supply them to their sworn enemy without first checking if they contained important information; one burst out that it was time to stop complaining about the relationship which the Boogeyman and the Guardian of Fun had established, the other defended himself by saying that he did it just for caution, and so on, in a quarrel which boded to to have no end.

The boy, however, gave no sign to have noticed the ongoing quarrel: when the Easter Bunny had stated that he should have read by himself he had visibly startled, turned the page and bowed his head as if he were completely engrossed in the story, but Pitch knew why he had behaved like that and, unfortunately, Toothiana seemed to have intuited the reason, too.

«Jack, are you able to read?» she asked hesitantly.

Frost suddenly straightened his back, risking almost to headbutt to his partner's chin, and, with a loud voice, he exclaimed: «Of course I'm able to read! But I prefer to do it with Pitch: when I'm alone I get bored quickly».

The fairy joined her hands on her chest, as if she regretted what he was about to do, but in the end she asked: «Jack, what is the title of the book you are reading?».

«I do not know, I didn't pay attention to it: you saw we took it in a hurry» tergiversated the boy.

«May you read me a sentence?» insisted the woman.

«I'll lose my place if you go on like this!» snapped Jack.

North and Bunnymund, who had now come to a standstill of their discussion, turned when they heard him raising his voice and stared at him in amazement. Annoyed by the fact that he ended up at the centre of the attention the boy snorted, then he leaned over the book and began: «Go-going down the aby... abysmal crevasse the Yeti got flab-flabber... flabbergasted by the tho...usands colour the ice re-reflected, and made sure to es-es...chew all the areas in-in which the path se-seemed not to be stab-stable. When he rea-reached the bottom he heard an obs-obster... he heard an obster...».

The Boogeyman followed every single syllable uttered by the partner, stroking his back in the attempt to appease the tremor which crossed it, mentally reading the text with him, as if that could help him to understand it better, feeling a twinge in the chest at every wrong word he pronounced and had to repeat, but when he saw that an insurmountable obstacle had blocked Frost, he couldn't resist any more.

«That's enough, Jack» he interrupted him, closing the book; «It's “an obstreperous noise”, but it's a word not easy to pronounce. This book is too difficult for you».

The boy let out a faint sob, surely caught in despair at the idea he had failed in front of everyone, but before the man could think about how to comfort him the Pooka exclaimed in a shocked tone: «Jack, you're not able to read!».

Overcome by an uncontrollable rage Pitch hugged Jack tightly, making sure to rest a hand on his head and stroke it to reassure him, then he burst out: «How good you are, Bunnymund, congratulations for the discovery, and congratulations for the tact with which you expressed it! You behaved so well and gently! I suppose that ignorance, moreover just assumed, is an unforgivable fault for you, while rudeness is perfectly acceptable, am I wrong? Thank our luck you're a Guardian, if you'd been a Lord of Nightmares I can't even dare to imagine what you would have come out with!».

«Pitch, Bunnymund could have asked it in another way, but it's normal he's amazed: neither of us knew that Jack isn't able to read» defended him North.

«You didn't know that only because you're all fool! Jack was born and grew up in a poor family and in an age when education was a privilege of the nobility and the bourgeoisie: it was obvious that the probability he went to school were very low! And, anyway, do you want me to believe that in three hundred years you have never had the opportunity to ask him? Don't make me laugh!» retorted the Boogeyman.

«Do not insult us! It's not the kind of question that a person usually make: you should not be surprised by the fact we never asked him» answered the Easter Bunny.

«Actually, it was one of the first things Pitch asked me» intervened a faint voice.

Stirring a little in the man's arms the boy peeped out from the warm nest where he had hid himself, he settled on his legs, in order to feel comfortable and be heard well, while remaining protected, and continued: «He asked it few days after New Year's. I don't remember why we started to talk about that, but, at some point, he demanded me if I liked to read and, when I told him I was not able, he asked me if I'd like to learn. He explained that reading is important and opens the way to new, magical worlds, that I would have enjoyed to discover how many things can be hidden in books and I, in the end, I said yes. He started to teach me a month and a half ago».

«Only a month and a half ago, Jack? If you're telling the truth, I must give you my congratulations, since you've already learned a lot: the sentence you read was really complex» said Toothiana with a smile.

«I don't think I'm so good: I'm learning very slowly, a child would have known how to read any word by now» contradicted her Frost in dejected tone.

«Jack, Jack, don't be silly: you're doing great. Learning to read requires time and patience, especially if you can't exercise every day, and especially if you are almost an adult: you know that a child learns more easily than a person who's already grown up and had many years of life behind themselves. Now go to the bookcase and pick up another volume. Today I spotted one which could be appropriate: it's called “Grimm's fairy tales”. It's a pretty big book which has a light brown leather cover and, on the spine, a gold decoration which is intertwined to form flowers» encouraged him Pitch.

Standing up the boy grabbed the book, put it back on the shelf from which it had been taken and, following North's directions, he walked away, going around the Globe to get to the library section dedicated to children's literature. The Boogeyman followed him with his eyes, checking the way he walked in order to guess if he was still suffering because of what he had been forced to admit, but, noting that he advanced in a calm and relaxed pace, he reassured himself.

«We should have stood by Jack more. We've been fool» commented Toothiana.

«What are you talking about? We _did_ stand by Jack! We didn't before he became a Guardian, but it's normal and understandable, and after he did we remedied. The fact that we didn't know he was not able to read is only a detail» countered Bunnymund.

«Oh, only a detail?» intervened the man; «You didn't know that Jack was not able to read, you didn't know he can feel cold, you didn't know that the sudden heat stuns him, and I'm willing to bet that, if we talked just for few hours, I would find out that you don't know a lot of other things. But, after all, these are just details: the important thing is to make sure that Jack is on your side and ready to fight, everything concerning his health and life doesn't matter. It wouldn't be like true friends taking care to understand him better and know how to help him».

«Oh, listen here: the Boogeyman is giving us lessons about friendship!» quipped the Pooka.

«I may be the Boogeyman, but alone and in few months I managed to take care of Jack better than you four together in more than three hundred years! The role which was assigned to us is not enough to define ourselves: they are our actions which determine who we are. You can hate me as much as you want and feel superior to me whenever you feel like, I do not care: your beliefs don't change the facts and arrogance only serves to make you swell your fur with pride. You failed with Jack, while I didn't. And now tell me, bunny, who has been meaner between the Lord of Nightmares and the Guardians of the Details».

The Easter Bunny started to reply, but, in the end, no sound came out of his mouth and he felt silent, looking down toward the floor with a contrite gaze.

After a while Jack reappeared, showing a large decorated book and excitedly asking: «Is this the right book?».

Pitch smiled when he saw his enthusiasm and, after a quick glance, he replied: «Yes, Jack: it's the right book».

 

 

Engrossed by the rush to help Jack out of his difficulty, Pitch hadn't considered in the least that, by proposing him to take a new book, he would have soon feel embarrassed, too. Only when the boy settled down on his lap and opened the book he fully realized he would have had to keep him close to him, follow him step by step while he read, correct him and encourage him, all in front of the other Guardians, and this was too much for him, so much he seriously thought about fleeing in the room where he had been hosted.

Fortunately for him the Guardians weren't intrusive at all: no needing to be encourage they settled down on their own, not minding the lesson in progress, and they began to talk in a low voice so as not to disturb.

Five minutes later Sandman came in, breaking into the room on board his sandy plane and waving his glasses to greet them, and the atmosphere totally relaxed down: the little Bringer of Dreams sit between North and Bunnymund on the big sofa opposite to the two lovers' one and, shaping the magic sand, struck up a conversation, immediately sparking deep laughter from the master of the house and giggles more discreet from Toothiana and definitely diverting the attention to himself.

For his part, the Boogeyman could have not complained about the situation even before Sandman arrived: the boy, in fact, had immediately set aside the initial anxiety and he had been able to read with ease, pronouncing each sentence fluently, albeit slowly, and needing his intervention only on very rare occasions, thus allowing him to expose himself as little as possible. The fact that, although he was the evil one among them, he had been the first who had seriously taken care of Frost and assisted him, beating the Guardians to the punch, was then a source of pride for him and a perfect truth to be brought up in the future at every opportunity, but what finally made him feel at ease was definitely the story they were reading: as every Grimm's tale, in fact, was bloody and full of macabre and tragic events, the perfect world for his gloomy soul.

«“... and the child pushed the witch in the fireplace and watched her burn, and when the fire went out there were only ashes and some withered bones on the andirons”. Pitch, what are the andirons?» asked the boy, interrupting the train of his thoughts.

The man shook himself, looking for the place on the page to understand at what point of the story he had arrived, then he answered: «They are those rods that support the wood in the fireplace. Do you see them? North has them, too: they're used to burn more wood and prevent it from falling down».

«Oh, I got it! When I was human I didn't know they existed, and the first time I saw them I didn't know who to ask how they are called. In the end I quickly lost the curiosity: it is better for me to stay away from the fire. Bunnymund, are you enjoying the story?» nonchalantly asked Jack.

The Easter Bunny startled, caught by surprise while he was covertly peering at him, and, with a sharp tone, he replied: «I'm not listening to the story».

«But you've been staring at us for at least half an hour. Are you surprised to see that Pitch can be so kind and considerate?» teased him the boy.

Pricking up his ears as to make himself look more authoritative the Pooka answered: «Well, to be sincere I am. It is not normal, for him, spending so much time helping someone instead of frightening them and, moreover, he even gives the impression he's having fun».

«Jack, ignore that nuisance and read, and woe to you if you make more comments» rebuked him Pitch, annoyed.

«We'll see who knows how to have fun and who doesn't» concluded Frost.

Without hesitation the Boogeyman push his hand on his partner's head and forced him to bend it, making him averting his eyes from the Easter Bunny and returning to focus on the text: the boy was keen and willing to learn, but he tended to get distracted very easily and, as soon as he found an excuse to have fun, any attempt to teach something to him failed miserably.

Regained the control of the situation he urged him to continue, and all proceeded quietly for a couple of minutes, but suddenly he heard a shuffling noise, indistinct and rapidly approaching, and the man knew at once that, at least for that day, the lesson had ended.

Springing out from a secondary staircase leading to the lower floor two flashes, one black and one blue, crossed the room and threw themselves on Bunnymund, leaping in his lap and jumping on his legs to reach his muzzle.

«Oh, how cute your two bunnies are! They're so sweet, I was just wondering what had happened to them» commented Toothiana.

While she had rose up in the air to better express, with her enchanted pose, how much the scene touched her, the Pooka tried in every way to flatten against the couch in order to dodge the two creatures, and he blurted out: «For all the eggs, take these two monster away! But what do they want from me? Ouch! Pitch, your stupid rabbit has just bitten me!».

Noting with pleasure that the hare who had donated to Jack didn't hesitate to use his claws and teeth to induce the other playing with him, Pitch pointed out: «It's a hare, not a rabbit, and, anyway, it's Jack's hare, not mine».

«You gave it to Jack, but the beast is still your creation!» cried the Easter Bunny, trying to defend himself.

«True, but, after all, it is just a detail» replied the Boogeyman with a wickedly satisfied smile.

«It's behaving like that only because you're too aggressive with it» intervened Jack; «Stop pushing him away and let it come closer: if you scratch it behind the ears he will calm down».

At first Bunnymund didn't listen to him and continued to shoo both the beasts, getting a bite and pushes from one and an unassailable insistence from the other, and making all the Spirits laugh. After a while, perhaps for common sense or perhaps for exhaustion, he gave up, letting the animals do what they wanted, and, suddenly, the chaos ended: the smaller and lighter bunny climbed on his shoulder, hiding his muzzle against his neck and tickling him with his whiskers, while the hare crouched on his lap, occasionally tapping its paw as if to ask for something.

Hesitantly, the Pooka tried to caress it, at first rubbing his open palm on its back and then scratching its nape with his fingers, and the animal finally quieted down, closing his eyes and shivering from time to time.

As one might expect, all the attention was focused on those two playful spirits, and comments of all kinds rose about them and their attitude, but Pitch didn't miss the Easter Bunny's expression: in fact, he didn't seem to be only embarrassed, but also contrite. After cuddling for a while the creature he raised his irises to stare at the man, then he returned to the hare, then back to the man, and he sighed, sending him a regretful look which seemed almost to ask if what was happening was real, if few strokes were seriously enough to tame what, apparently, had appeared like a little demon, and maybe if this could work in the same way with the Boogeyman.

Shaking his head Pitch immediately diverted his eyes, mentally calling himself fool because he had let the imagination run wild to this point, and yet remaining dismayed, because he knew he was deftly able to find out the others' thoughts, but he had no way to ponder further.

Jack, in fact, called him and, with an amused tone, he asked: «What do you suggest, calling them back or having a little more fun?».

Slyly grinning the Boogeyman chuckled and answered: «What a silly question, Jack: having fun, and more than a little».

Snapping his fingers he made his rabbit move and roll down from its position, bumping the mate and goading it again, and, laughing in unison with his love and the other to Pooka's haphazard reaction, he managed to set aside, at least for a little, all the worries and anxiety which had haunted him, enjoying this moment of pure fun.

 

 

 

 

Here you can find a fanart made by HeilyNeko!

 

[ http://it.tinypic.com/view.php?pic=2cxgif7&s=8#.UwhymPl5Omt ](http://it.tinypic.com/view.php?pic=2cxgif7&s=8#.UwhymPl5Omt)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I expected I didn't manage to translate chapter 31; my friend is on holiday from today to Tuesday, and I have another huge exam on Monday, so I'll probably publish the next chapter on Thursday. Feel free to ask me whatever you want: I don't bite


	31. Chapter 31

 

**WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK? - PART 31**

 

 

Pitch and Jack lingered for long before they quietened down their rodents: they let them run free as much as possible, often teasing them so that they could botherBunnymund, then feigning to call them back, but releasing them again few seconds later; in the end, however, they gave in and, after making them climb on their palms, they dissolved them, closing their fists and staring at each other small marks on the wrists.

The Boogeyman fully enjoyed the view of the Pooka now exhausted, but he felt a strong embarrassment when, looking up, he saw all the eyes on himself: he had lost himself so much in the joke he had done to the Easter Bunny that he hadn't realized he had company and, though he was certain he had let out a laugh cruel, and not happy, at the sight of the enemy in trouble, he couldn't believe he had laughed together with the Guardians.

Taking advantage of the commotion he had created, the man vanished, slipping in the Globe's shadow and leaving the hall, and he took refuge in a small room he had discovered during his wanderings: a secluded chamber, dark and disused, located in the attic.

Circumventing the huge wardrobe that partially occluded the door access Pitch crept inside, moving stealthily among the furniture, passing a piano and a telescope covered by a cloth and arriving finally in front of the only window which illuminated the storage: a fanlight, simple and made of transparent glass, recessed in a wall cavity. The light of the full moon penetrated through it, passing through the cage of wrought iron which formed its supporting frame and bathing the floor, creating a trick of reflections on it and revealing strange figures in the darkness.

The dust of the years covered everything, from the parquet now warped to the few and sober pieces of furniture which decorated that forgotten space, softening every contour and making the atmosphere hushed and nearly melancholic, and the Boogeyman didn't disturb it: silent as the shadow he was he slipped between an obstacle and the other, without leaving fingerprints or other traces of his passage, then he sat on the sill, bending one leg and leaving the other dangling.

Ignoring the blinding satellite which overwhelmingly occupied most of the view, the man focused on the only patch of sky left which was lit only by the stars and he lost himself counting them: he had never been able to explain why, but their vision had always had the power to calm him down. Slowly he began to spot some constellations and distinguish the real stars from the planets and the galaxies, but, just when he was almost certain he had identified Mars, a sound disturbed him.

An irregular patter, accompanied by a ticking sound, came from a distance, growing closer, then fading; just when they started to become almost inaudible, however, they reappeared, constantly increasing in volume, until they burst into the room and the person who caused them appeared at the sight.

«Pitch! Finally I found you! What are you doing here all alone?» asked Jack, stepping into the pool of light.

«What I do every day, Jack: I'm always alone» laconically answered Pitch.

The boy sighed, went beside him and said: «You're not compelled to do it, you know? You just need to come forward in order to have company».

«It's not a matter of compulsion, Jack» explained the Boogeyman; «I don't feel comfortable in company, especially if it's made up by my enemies»

«Pitch, stop making excuses: they are not your enemies. You've seen how they welcomed you, you've seen how they treat you: they care about you, exactly like I do» interrupted him Frost.

He gritted his teeth, barely refraining himself from pouring out a sharp and rude comment, but in the end he couldn't resist any more and he replied: «It's totally useless from you keeping repeating that sentence: everyone has his own perspective, and mine is different from yours. You are a Guardian, you have always been with them and do a work acceptable for them: I do not. You don't know what it means to remain in the shadows, live in others' fear and be despised. I've never sought company, and I'm not going to do it now: I want to be alone».

The boy, who initially looked sorry, got hungry when he heard the comparison and he declared: «You are the usual idiot: you didn't understand anything. Do you think I'm so privileged? You should have known better. I haven't always been with them: until less than a year ago I knew the Guardians only by name, and I had seen live only Sandman and Bunnymund. I may not know everything you do, but I know what it means being invisible, I know what it means living in fear of never being considered, and I know what it means being left aside. I had never sought company, too, but when I found it I realized that I'd been a fool: the company would have soothed the loneliness thousand times better than the jokes I prepared. Do you want to be alone? That's fine. Be alone with your pride that keeps you from admitting you're wrong: I'm sure it will be a great consolation for you».

The tone in which he had spoken had been hard and resentful, never broken, and yet Pitch swore he had seen a tear rolling down his right eye; just when he bent to check it, however, the other turned, briskly walking away.

«Jack, where are you going?» he asked.

«I'm going to bed: better not my presence disturbs your stupid thoughts» snapped Jack.

Outraged by the insult and the partner's brusque behaviour the Boogeyman finally lost his patience and shouted: «Finally you're going away! I never asked you to come and disturb me. Go back to your pathetic Guardians».

«As if they were the pathetic ones» retorted the boy.

The man couldn't believe his ears: it had already happened in the past that Frost had mocked him during a quarrel, but they had been only sporadic episodes and, above all, generic insults, which, albeit insolent, had been decontextualized and caused by the anger of the moment. That offence, instead, had been well conceived and targeted and, together with the explicit comparison with the Guardians, had hit him right where he felt weaker: it was intolerable that the boy had dared so much.

Now completely out of his mind Pitch jumped down the window sill, covered with long strides the distance which separated him from the other and grabbed him by the neck. He didn't restricted himself to grasping him with one arm and pulling him towards himself: taken by the heat he snatched him with both hands, lifting him from the ground and slamming him against the wall, and he cruelly dug his fingers into that soft flesh, enjoying its quick and laborious pulsing in an attempt to stay alive.

«Don't you dare to ever insult me like this again, ever in your life!» he cried.

Hearing no response he tightened his grip, not letting himself being moved neither by the boy's broken sobs, nor by his thin phalanges which stroked his wrists, but he never looked into his eyes; he stood motionless for a moment, then, without warning, he released him.

He felt him slip to the ground, helpless, hitting the floor at first with his knees and then with his elbows, remaining bent double as he panted to recover, but he didn't come to his aid: he had been shocked both by his behaviour and his own and, unable to ask for forgiveness, he preferred to run away.

Without panicking he briskly walked away, leaving the room before dissolving in a cloud of magic sand, then, creeping from shadow to shadow, he went down to the lower floors. He struggled in order not to be noticed by the Guardians, who were still gathered in the hall, speaking about everything and anything, but, taking advantage of a passing Yeti, he overcame also that obstacle and managed to take refuge in the room where he had been welcomed. He didn't rejoiced when he saw it: although North had tried to make it look more cosy, nothing in its furnishings made him feel comfortable, and the risk that someone could come to disturb him was high, but the strength had now abandoned him and he had no other place where to go.

He quietly closed the door behind him, hoping that that barrier was sufficient to deter any unwanted guest, then he stepped forward, letting his garment dissolve into tiny grains of sand and laying on the bed.

He would have had thousand of different issues to think about: the Nightmares he had evoked, the fear they had generated and absorbed, the Guardians, their comprehensive attitude and his incredulous and unfriendly one, the tenderness he had received, his own constant oscillation between acceptance and complete rejection of these, the loneliness now passed and perhaps not really regretted, the sense of disorientation, the inability to communicate, the mistakes he had done and which had culminated in the brutal assault of few minutes before, and much, much more. So many questions to be answered, too many thoughts to ponder on: he didn't know where to start, nor how to proceed, he couldn't even fully focus them.

It was for this reason that, even though he was disgusted with himself, he immediately gave up: he felt physically and mentally exhausted, worn out by issues which he would have never thought could concern him, and he wasn't able to do anything.

Settling under the blanket he tried to sleep, but he didn't manage to: his mind was blank, but it didn't want to fall into oblivion, finally giving him a little rest. Resigned he decided to wait, staring at the ceiling and forcing himself not to turn over, but soon after a faint sound came to his ears.

A weak creaking announced that the door had been ajar, and Pitch, assuming that Toothiana had opened it, closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep to avoid any conversation. As he expected he heard some feeble footsteps, followed by some slight rustling, but just when he was sure the guest had now reached him and was about to rest their palm on his forehead to check his temperature, he felt them creeping under the sheet and adhering to his arm.

Amazed by that attitude he opened wide his eyes and, instead of finding in front of himself the fairy's fuchsia irises, he saw his love's crystal clear ones, which peered at him with an expression serious and sweet at the same time.

Embarrassed because he had been caught in a state of vulnerability he snapped: «What the hell are you doing here, Frost? Get out of my sight!».

«Never» quietly replied the other.

Seized with a fit of rage the Boogeyman leaped on him, forcing him beneath himself and moving again his hands to his throat, and he cruelly tightened the grip, gritting his teeth to scare him and letting off steam.

Frost, accustomed to these outbursts, didn't get frightened, but he didn't even react: he stood there, motionless, lying on the bed, his hands open in a gesture of surrender and, on the face, the same look mature and sincere which he had addressed him countless times in the months they had spent together. The man tried to resist it, focusing on the resentment he had accumulated in those days of convalescence, but eventually he capitulated: not even by appealing to his darkest soul he could rage on a creature so innocent.

He slowly relaxed the grip, caressing with fingers light as a feather that neck which, until few seconds before, he had tried to strangle; leaning forward a little he checked if he had injured it, feeling a pang in his heart when he realized he had left a bruise him, and he seriously thought about escaping again; in the end, however, he gathered the courage and remained, rubbing the back of his partner's head and his bare chest to help him recover. When he heard him breathe normally he touched his mouth with his fingertips, extending the caress along his cheek and then sinking the phalanges in those perpetually ruffled hair, then, unable to stare back at his irises, he went down, lying on his chest and placing the ear on his heart.

He winced when he felt the boy hugging him gently and starting to cuddle him, but he didn't pull him away, focusing, rather, on the rhythmic pulse he heard: he followed it, throb by throb, getting lost in them and closing his eyes, and just when he was finally quiet Jack spoke.

«Pitch, I'm sorry for what happened before: I didn't want to make a comment so cruel».

Trying to quell the guilt the man wearily laughed and replied: «You're incredible, Jack: I got smart, insulted you, attacked you and tried to strangle you twice, and what do you do? You come here and apologize»

The boy chuckled at that sentence, making his lungs vibrate and tickling Pitch's face, then he said: «Indeed it may sound a bit strange, but it's right like this. I made mistakes, too, and, anyway, you already apologized to me when you let me go».

«I didn't even open my mouth» pointed out the Boogeyman.

«Your gaze full of repentance was worth more than a thousand words» explained Frost.

The man nestled better between his legs, returning the hug and gently stroking his hair; the boy let him do it, kissing his temple to thank him and then getting ready to talk.

«Pitch, let me explain better what I said before in the attic. I called you “pathetic”, and I'm really sorry about it: I used that word just to parrot you, but I realized too late that its meaning was really cruel. What I wanted to say is that you worry too much: you get so anxious when you're together with the Guardians, you're tense, always gruff and often rude, you willingly provoke them and, when finally you manage to let yourself go a little, you ruin everything with a sharp reply. Why do you do it? Why can't you behave like a normal person? This was what I was wondering about before, but, actually, I already know the answer: you're the Boogeyman. Partly it's a matter of character, which you can't change and which I do not want you to change, but partly it's a matter of duties which you think you have, but which actually you have not. We talked about this, I'm sure you realized it and I understand you need time to accept it, so I wanted to ask you something else: has it been too much for you? Four Guardians all at once and all caring towards you has been too upsetting?».

Pitch sighed, lowering his head as if to avoid the question, but then confessed: «Yes».

Jack hugged him tightly, slipping under him to move at his eyes level and inducing him to stare at him, then he said: «Sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't understand this before. Unfortunately I could have done nothing to avoid it, since you were still recovering, but I'm sorry anyway: at least I could have asked the others to be more discreet».

«Pft, as if they could really be more discreet» commented the Boogeyman.

The boy chuckled and replied: «I'm glad to hear you making jokes about it: it means that you feel better than before and that you no longer feel so uncomfortable talking to and about the Guardians. However, know that they really can be more discreet: just before I came to seek you they asked me to ask you how you were and if you needed something, because they wanted to take care of you, but without bothering you».

«I bet that tomorrow morning they will all be out of this door, anxious to make up the time they have given me this night» muttered the man.

In contrast to what he expected Frost didn't react to the joke, but he stared at him intently and demanded: «Pitch, you want to leave tomorrow?».

Pitch looked back at him, letting all the disbelief he felt shine through his own gaze: ever since he had regained consciousness he had harboured the desire to get out of there, back in his lair to make sure Behemuth had finally returned to his prison, to fix everything that had been destroyed and rest in peace, in a place far more dismal than the happy North's Palace, but where he didn't risk to receive shrilling morning visits. Contributing factors his poor physical condition and the fear to disappoint his love he had never followed his desire, trying even not to think about it and resigning himself to that forced holiday, but he would have never expected that the one to put an end to it would have been his sweet snowflake, who had insisted so much to make him and the Guardians meet.

«I proposed it because now you look good» explained the boy; «You have regained most of your powers, many Nightmares are out of here, ready to feed you with fear, and I'm sure that this night they will work to make you recover completely. I see that you suffer staying in here, and, to tell the truth, I suffer a bit, too: I'm used to live outdoor in open spaces, and remaining too much time locked in a house doesn't suit me. We could go away to stretch our legs a bit, check in what state your lair is and fix what it need to be fixed, and spend some time alone. What do you think about it? It would be a nice way to start again».

The Boogeyman smiled at him, touched to see such a caring behaviour and by the fact that the other had the same desire to leave, and answered: «Yes, it would be a wonderful way to start again».

Jack's eyes lit up with a new light, grateful and full of joy, and the boy hastened to add: «But then we'll come back here sometime, right?».

The man rolled his irises and he commented: «Do not hurry like this, Jack. Maybe, if we're forced to, if there is no other possibility, if it happens again that I summon Behemuth and it hurts me and if you draw your staff on me, at that point, maybe, but only maybe, I might consider the idea that it may be necessary to...».

«Yes, yes, I understand, I understand: I will leave you your space and I will not ask for anything any more... little dark puff» interrupted him the boy.

After a short, initial bewilderment Pitch recovered and, grabbing him by the wrists, he declared: «You'll pay for this, Jack».

 

 

That evening a long time passed before Pitch could fall asleep and he had to thank the fact he had gone away from the hall soon, or probably he would have not slept at all. First, of course, he had immobilized Jack and, evoking his tentacles of darkness, he had tickled his hips, until the boy no longer had the strength to even squirm; then, taking advantage of his weakness, he had kissed every inch of his soft skin, from the temples to his feet's tips, skipping only his limp cock; finally, feeling him recovering, he had hugged him tightly and started to cuddle him. Eventually, after hours which had seemed full days, he had kept the promise made to him in the afternoon and fondled him for a long time, enjoying his muffled moans and the small kisses he gave him, never taking advantage of his nakedness to receive something more or let his own palms slip in naughty caresses: he didn't feel neither the need nor the desire to go further, and he knew that the partner felt the same way. After about half an hour he heard him breathe more slowly and he realized that he had fallen into a deep sleep, but he didn't followed him: he lay awake for long, redrawing with the fingertips every muscle and bone, watching his figure tenderly curled up and thinking about the immense fortune he had had in finding him, and only when the exhaustion forced his eyelid down he gave up and closed them.

The next morning, though he had been the last to fall asleep, he woke up first and had to wait nearly an hour before Frost opened his eyes; playfully taunting him for his laziness he bothered him a little to make him get up, he helped him to take on his clothes and finally said: «Jack, my Nightmares are out here and just waiting for me to call them: I prefer you to go out, especially after the incident which happened yesterday afternoon».

The boy smiled and replied: «Sure, Pitch: no problem. I'll take this opportunity to go and tell the others that you have now recovered and we are preparing to leave».

The Boogeyman nodded and let him go, then, using the same technique of the day before, he absorbed all the fear that the Nightmares were able to send him; unlike that occasion he managed to control the flow of power coming in and, diluting it over time and immediately using a part of it to create some magic sand for the children, and these gimmicks helped him to handle the situation to perfection: he stood all the time on his feet without difficulty, and when his servants had gone he felt stronger than ever and completely ready to face the outside world.

After easily recreating his usual clothes, including the tight pants, he left the room, stepping briskly along the corridor and going around the Globe now perfectly working, then he arrived in the main hall and found all the five Guardians waiting. Taken by surprise he stopped to stare at them: he had reckoned he would have had to say goodbye properly, at least to the master of the house, but he had never imagined he would have had to deal with a similar committee of farewell.

As always Jack intervened to dispel the embarrassment and, without further ado, he told him: «Come, Pitch: we have to take the elevator. North thought it would be much more easy for you to leave from the roof, instead of this room, and has already cleared the runway».

Hastily nodding Pitch followed North to the elevator, moving up in the middle of that small group in order not to touch anyone, but, luckily for him, the journey was short: less than a minute after the transportation stopped, opening on a narrow and dark stair lifting to a trap door, and, when the Boogeyman managed to climb it with fatigue, he was rewarded with a breathtaking view.

Snow-capped mountains and bottomless crevasses stretched from east to west, dazzling him with their blinding whiteness and capturing him with their mysterious shadows, captivating the lucky viewer with shades of colours that they would ever expect to find in the ice and delighting them with thousands and thousands of rainbow reflections, and the man got lost in them, jumping with his irises from a spur to the other and trying to memorize all the details to be able to remember them.

A voice thoughtful interrupted his observation, asking nicely: «Pitch, are you ready to go? Are you sure you fully recovered?».

Turning towards Toothiana the man replied: «Yes, I'm fine now. You can take a break from your new nurse job, and my ears will be able to take a break from your chatters».

«You're the usual insolent!» rebuked him the fairy, barely holding back a laugh.

When her merry mood faded awayPitch did not know what to say: within himself he felt he should thank the Guardians for the help, but he wasn't eager to do it, nor knew where to start from; on one hand he couldn't wait to get out of that place, leaving behind himself that unwanted cohabitation with his enemies, but on the other hand he felt a slight sadness at the thought he would have no longer heard their shrill voices.

As the silence grew longer and more awkward and the solution to that problem receded more and more Bunnymund intervened and commented: «I can't believe you're standing there stock-still, waiting for who knows what, while the only thing you should do it would be thanking us for all we've done for you and going away!».

While all the Guardians clearly froze on the spot, the Boogeyman smiled wickedly at that remark and replied: «For once in your life you did a smart thing, Bunnymund: I was just looking for a way to avoid thanking you, but you handed it to me on a silver platter».

The Pooka immediately got to the charge, shouting an aggressive and repetitive speech to bring up to him he was selfish and ungrateful, but the man didn't care, as well as he didn't even notice his friends' intervention.

Stepping away from that noisy company he tried to clear up his thoughts and stretched out his hands in front of him: he had a confused intention to call a Nightmare, choosing one which was already close to North's Palace in order not to wait too long for its arrival, assemble and move away quickly, but he let himself been distracted from the silhouette of Jack who was getting closer and lost concentration. Much more magic sand than he had thought to summon came out from his palms, softly sliding among his fingers, twisting on itself to create thicker tentacles and splitting into thousands of trails to give life to thin filaments, and when the process ended a magnificent Pureblood loomed in front of the viewers.

Pitch froze on the spot and stared at it, hardly believing what he was facing: that tall and slender figure, those muscles quivering but not pronounced, those soft lines, that mane and that tail so long and thick, that graceful muzzle, that proud look were unmistakable.

Staying still he let the creature approach him, touch with the tip of its nose his fingers stretched out and then his chest, and only when he felt it snorting against his neck he shook himself just enough to whisper: «Voluptas...».

Almost trembling he brought his fingertips to the animal's neck, slowly stroking it, as if he was afraid to see it dissolve before his eyes, but Voluptas was real, quivering under his touch: it was back, and it would have never gone away again.

«Voluptas is back!» exclaimed Frost.

The man, still prey of the astonishment and the joy which had caught him, commented: «Yes, it is ba... wait: did you know it passed away?».

«Yes» replied the boy in a tone a bit broken; «I knew it as soon as I came to your lair with Toothiana. You had just evoked Behemuth and you were ready to give battle, but you weren't riding any Nightmare: it was not like you, and it was not a practical choice, considered how hard was for you moving. It made sense that you didn't want to use Voluptas: maybe you preferred to keep it safe, or simply it didn't seem appropriate for that moment, but why didn't you simply create another Pureblood to ride? The only possible reason was that you you felt guilty about its death and you didn't have the heart to replace it with any else. However, I had the final confirmation when you moved me away from the battlefield: if you had sent Voluptas to stop me I would have never had the courage to destroy it and I would have got stuck, but you sent the Innexiae in its place. The explanation, again, could be only one, and I didn't take long to guess it».

Pitch sighed to that revelation: knowing that Jack had been aware of Voluptas' departure from the beginning made him feel doubly guilty, and doubly foolish because he had voluntarily and wilfully followed every step necessary for Behemuth's evocation, without stopping even to think in the face of such a clear sign of his madness; however, it was not the right time to brood over the past, but to think about the future, so he didn't speak and mentally set aside the issue.

In one fluid motion he went beside his horse and got into the saddle, settling himself well in order to be sure not to fall, then he made it turn around and move back as much as he could, in order to have the longest track possible for his run-up.

«Pitch, aren't you forgetting something?» asked Frost.

Annoyed, the Boogeyman restrained the beast and answered: «I've already said I'm not going to thank them, and I have no intention to give life to a pathetic, tearful farewell: I just want to leave as soon as possible and get back to my work».

For the second time he made Voluptas bend its hind legs, in order to have the necessary momentum to fly, but the boy replied: «No, no, I wasn't talking about that».

Although he was irritated by this setback the man couldn't hold back his curiosity and, keeping his face stubbornly turned, he asked: «And what, for pity's sake, did I forget?».

«This» concluded Jack.

Hovering over the ground he went beside him, hooked the curved end of his staff around his neck and pulled, drawing him towards himself; taken aback Pitch lost his balance and he found his love's lips pressed against his in a peck which, albeit chaste, had been given with such a love to be passionate, like the hot ones they were exchanged at the thermal baths.

Although the kiss had seemed endless to the Boogeyman, that tender union lasted only a couple of seconds, after which the boy released him and, evoking the fastest winds he knew, he quickly flew away in the sky, saying him goodbye with a laugh and daring him to reach him.

The man, who in the meantime had awkwardly slipped to the ground, abruptly stood up, fuming for the joke and the embarrassing show he had just done, then he shouted: «It's useless for you to flee away, Jack Frost: there is no protection from my anger! As soon as I catch you I'll make you bitterly regret this idiot joke!».

As quick as a lightning he leaped into the saddle, spurred the Pureblood and galloped, crashing the Guardians both in order not to waste time by circumventing them and to suffocate their hilarity; braving the icy gusts he flung himself along the contrail of snowflakes that Frost left behind himself, using it to tire his mount as less as possible and summoning all his powers in the attempt to gain upon; finally, after getting beside him and vainly pursuing him in his agile somersaults, he saw him slow down and softly sit in front of himself, even bending to hug him.

«Do not believe that some caresses can be enough to make me forgive you! How did you dare to make me that stupid joke!?» he snapped, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to pull him away.

The boy, staying firmly in place, replied: «I've only gave you a good excuse to leave like the Boogeyman you are without looking rude, didn't you understand? And then I bet with Toothiana that I would be able to make you give me a kiss in front of everybody. Let me guess: you're angry with me, right? Well, never mind: you can punish me, if you want to».

He uttered the last sentence in an impish tone, staring into his eyes and biting his bottom lip at the end to provoke him; the man, who obviously had immediately understood the allusion, hugged him possessively and pierced him with his irises, whispering: «What can I say, Jack? After two days of noisy and boring company, finally someone who knows how to have a little fun».

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story doesn't end here! There's a sequel, which I'll publish this Saturday; the title is “We don't have to be alone”. See you soon, and thank you for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks you left!


End file.
